#this one I can see him being a fairly good artist

[ragsy]

MOTW NPC Rach Lombardi, Mark's toxic ex who got ripped to shreds by dogman and then whose revenant ghost latched onto someone else who was on their own dogman revenge quest (player character Tatara)

she's fun.

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader are married. he refers to readers breasts and makes a lewd joke. divider by cafekitsune my most beloved | wc 822

“That one looks like you.”

Squeezing Satoru’s bicep where your hand rests against it, arm looped through his, you giggle and shake your head. The statue in front of you is flesh made marble, a woman with thighs that maybe on a really good day resemble yours so painstakingly crafted that crowds gather to see her. She’s beautiful, a depiction of a goddess from fables you are both vaguely familiar with.

Is this really how he sees you? It makes those same butterflies he always manages to create stir in your belly and you wrinkle your nose, taking a peek up at him but looking away to admire the beauty depicted in front of you.

“You’ve already charmed me, Satoru. You don’t have to tell tall tales.” His gaze shifts from the sculpture to you, something you can feel rather than witness. He scoffs and tilts his head, shifting from standing beside you to in front of you, arms still linked together.

 “You always say that when I compliment you. Why?”

Laughing, you reach to pinch his side with your freehand and he dodges just in the nick of time. It’s preventative, he always giggles and causes a scene when you touch the tender ticklish spot right at his hip bone, and a museum in another country on a trip the two of you had to bend your schedules to go on is not the place to have a tickle fight. He traps your hand in his and deposits it at your side with a smug half smile.

“Let’s not get into it right now. I’ll just say thank you for the compliment and we can move on.”

Never one to take being put off gracefully, he crowds against you until there is zero space between your bodies. You worry about the PDA being seen as offensive or too much and glance around the mostly empty on a weekday museum where everyone else is fairly ignorant of your existence. It’s just the two of you, as always and not just in your head this time. Smiling, you let him embrace you and rest his balled hands against the small of your back, your entire body leaning into his side.

“You know, I’d have a house full of sculptures and paintings of you just like that if you’d let me,” he mumbles under his breath to bait you. You laugh aloud, pressing your cheek to his arm. “What, nude?” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and raises his eyebrows over the tops of his sunglasses. “Obviously. Or clothed or in a gown or in water or tangled in our bed sheets.” 

Pausing to take a breath, he’s surprised to see you already looking up at him when he gazes down at you. He wishes he could capture this with more than just his eyes, his phone and heart. He has painted you before and would create a thousand more odes to his beauty if he had more time on his hands and you’d let him. You’re so eager to disbelieve your own beauty, you haven’t sat to be painted by him in years. 

Satoru makes a mental note to rectify that as soon as the two of you get home but continues to speak now that he has your undivided attention, smirking, all dimples and mischief and the things you love the most about him, the tenderness in your glance a reflection of how you feel.

“I’m just saying. I’m sure I could find some sculptor to carve my pretty wife and would do those,” he glances down at your chest and you roll your eyes half-heartedly, still wearing the smile he put on your face with his casual comparison of your likeness to that of a goddess. “The artistic justice they deserve.”

Despite the tongue in cheek joking, he can be such a romantic when he wants to be. You kind of feel he’s laying it on a little thick because you’re on vacation but what’s the harm in having fun when it is luxuriously just the two of you, the rarity that it is?

Smiling up at him, you offer a better solution.

“Maybe they can sculpt both of us. We can see if they’ll do that,” you subtly reach down and pat just below his belt buckle before he can swat at your hand or turn on his Infinity to keep you away, pulling your hand away as quickly as you can. “Some justice too.”

Now that’s an idea he appears to like, his smirk sliding into a full smile. You pat his arm and separate yourself from him, only to be met with a whine. You reach behind you and grab his hand, fingers intertwining as naturally as they always do, pulling him along with you.

“Now let me show you which one reminds me of you,” you tease him, smiling over your shoulder. 

[evilminji]

I Ponder The Humble Blob Ghost!

You think they are what happens when you ALMOST but not quite A Ghost(tm)? Like, you have the ectoplasm and the will to continue... but you didn't really have A Thing in life? No Final Crystalizing Thought that brings focus? Just "ow! Ah! I'm scared. Don't wanna die!" And theeeeen.... *poof!*

Why am I Orb? Am squish? No bones.

Like? Remove any one piece of the Critical Formula and you get Blob instead of Ghost? Different KINDS, mind you, but blobs none the less.

Like Skulker! Not enough Ectoplasm. Ended up Blob. He CLEARLY had the Will, the Obsession, the gory end and unfinished business... buuuut? No green goo to power the creation of a full body. He clearly knows what he's supposed to LOOK like? But it's not something FIXABLE? Even with his now unlimited access to Ectoplasm.

Like in utero damage that permanently stunted his growth. HE is fine. All his facilities are on-line and checking in as they should, for the level of sentience expected of a ghost of his people. He just... smol. Same strength, intelligence, and power as he would have always HAD...

He just got handed a really, REALLY crap "customize your eternal meatsuit" option screen. Like for real guys. Basicly NO options. His salt is eternal and entirely justified. He could have had his tattoos. He paid a LOT of credits for those! Sat for DAYS! Had to track down this One(1) artist on this SHITTY little trading hub, that BARELY QUALIFIED as one, to sit in on uncomfortable overturned crate... IN A GAS MASK because the AIR SUPPORT KEPT KICKING IT... for hoooours!

It was a WORK OF ART. You would have CRIED.

This is BULLSHIT.

But wait, I hear you say, staring at the Blob ghost chewing on a lamp post. The one that has wii music playing behind the eyes. No thoughts, head jello, one might say. What about THEM?

Good point! Remember that formula?

LOT of Ecto! But THAT... might be either an animal or a fungus. We'd have to check. ANYTHING can and DOES die. If it's alive? It can die and potentially leave a ghost. But! Consider the noble Ghost Rabbit! *holds up squirming rabbit that is ABSOLUTELY trying to both bite me and kick me in the face* A noble and friendly creature!

THIS is what happens when an animal: has sufficient Ectoplasm at the death site, a reason to continue living (fairly common. It's usually their offspring, escape, the instinctual drive to survive itself or other understandable base drives. Like love, loyalty, or hunger.), and that all important High Emotions End.

Miss any of these? You get Blobbertson over there! He's clearly a hungry boy! But! Not very DRIVEN is he? Just floating along, chewing on whatever seems interesting, looking for a snack. He's food motivated. But not MOTIVATED motivated.

Blobbertson over there? A peaceful death. Too much Ectoplasm too leave, too food motivated in life NOT to carry over, but? No DRIVE. To DEFINE and DEMAND the Ectoplasm in his little body become sharp and active. No highly emotional state to stir it into action.

Is Blobbertson INCAPABLE of higher emotions? No. He is every bit as capable as the Ghost Rabbit that has savaged my hands and escaped while you were reading. It was, in fact, NOT as friendly as originally assumed. I may be bleeding. Unimportant. Blobbertson is PERFECTLY capable of getting attached. Being trained.

Whatever level of intelligence Blobbertson had in life, still remains. And WITH that? Comes the ability to improve and grow in death! IF (and this is the big one) he ever finds MOTIVATION to do so.

Because you see, Blobbertson is quite happy. No thoughts, brain jello. Drifting along in a happy green ocean like a jellyfish. Only concerned about his next snack. It's comforting. His food obsession filled, his tiny motivation barely enough to move him place to place.

He would GLADLY sit in one place and eat for the rest of eternity. Head blissfully silent.

And that's OKAY! It truly, honestly, is. Not everyone has to be conquers and kings, crafters and cosmonauts. Sometimes you just want to spend the rest of time playing in the sand. Resting on a sunshine-y hill. Not EVERY soul is a loud one.

This is the INFINITE Realms.

And there are places like Amity Park out there. THICK as cold honey with Ectoplasm in the air, gently infusing all the life that grows there with greater and greater chance of Ghost-hood. Even the peaceful blinking awake after that final rest to look down and... little nubby green paws.

Congratulations on becoming a Blob, grandma! Yes, I imagine you ARE furious it is inordinately difficult to knit like this. No, I don't think complaining to the king will help, MeMa.

That said? I can not tell you if Blob Ghost all belong to the same Family or the same Order, but they are NOT the same species! The WAY in which you fuck up that ever vital Fomula results in WILDLY different Blobs! Was it an animal? A sentient species? A sentient PLANET? A complexe interlocking colony of fungi? What was the EXACT Ectoplasm concentration at the death site? Was that the historical levels or the At Death levels? Was the individual under sedation?

Yes! All of this IS in fact, VERY relevant!

And you think it ends THERE? HA! The SKIES are FILLED with Fighty Mother Fuckers! Ghosts LOVE to fight! It's built into their social dynamics and hierarchy! Good ol brawls to get the Ecto pumping!

......Local Blob Farmer would like to take this moment to say "GET OF HIS GHOST PEONIES, YOU HEATHENS."

No they would NOT like to join your 24/7 thunder dome in the sky, THANKS! Martha here is trying to compose some Atlantian Shell Poetry. Blobby Jr of Blobbington and Blobbington Incorporated is TRYING to study! You've DESTROYED THE COMMUNAL ZEN GARDEN!!

Get! GET!!! *swings broom*

And THEN you look not even a mile east? And it's the floating island of Blobs. They LIKE that rock. It's just an ever shifting, accidentally rolling off the edge, falling slightly, making an offended squeek, and floating back to the top of the pile to repeate the process, MOOSH of thousands of blobs. No one's certain if they used to be seals or some sort of cat.

Apparently THAT island is Warm(tm).

So there they sit. Making contented noises, chirping and shoving for the best spots. They never leave. You can literally just... float up and sit on them. It's amazing. You gotta be careful not to get buried, but it's So Soft and bouncy? And they are ALL making that soft happy Blob vibrate noise. It's like a giant, island sized, warm and almost fuzzy but not, water bed that massages you.

Just DON'T start anything there! Holy SHIT are they territorial. You Will Die. They SWARM.

And THATS not even getting into the Blobs that are? Literally brainless. Some people eat those. Which? I guess? They ARE basicly Ectoplasm jello. But SOME of them are NOT? Like... it's a debate. Hot button issue, ya know?

Some fungus turns into Ecto Jello with negative IQ and delicious insides. Is this food? But OTHER fungus was SENTIENT in life and become a whole RANGE of Fungus ghosts, from Blob right on up to complexe dryad like ghosts! Clearly NOT food unless you are a MONSTER. But THEY argue the FIRST group are ALSO not food?

Plant Ghosts have strong opinions and are willing to Gruesome Violence about it.

Which brings us back to the Humble Blob Ghost! Check before you pet! That might be grandma! Or planning to eat your hand! Just as Mammal tells you little to nothing about what animal you are looking at, so too does Blob and Ghost! Stay safe out there! And if anyone sees a glowing green rabbit? I want my blood back! That's supposed to be in MY body! Rude!

This has been, the daily ghost!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[writingoddess1125]

Random Headcanon!

Buggy Paints on his S/O

Support on Ko-Fi

• Buggy seems like a fairly artistic person. Naturally due to his interest in performing arts and him having an infinity of doing his own makeup

• This translating to him being a fairly skilled tradional artist as well- Mainly painting. It was something he did if he had spare time and often sold under a Alias to different art vendors or collectors.

• As his S/O however you were both his greatest model and his muse. Him often sketching you to get ideas

• or using the excuse of nude sketches to get you undressed ;3

• He never spoke about this Hobbie to anyone accept you.

• Sometimes Buggy would do light ink sketches on your arm or fingers if you asked or was bored enough. Nothing large or with color

• Till one hot summer day

• It had been by accident really, a lazy day on the ship due to the sudden heat wave that fell over everyone. Buggy had given the crew a day to themselves since it was too dangerous to sail and possibly give people heat strokes.

• So he was in his cabin. Shirt off, in shorts and his hair in a messy bun ontop of his head as he tried to do some basic gestures. You laying on the bed shirtless and only in your favorite underwear trying to stay cool as you red.

• Buggy glanced back at you. He stares at your naked back for a moment watching you read and mindlessly doze off into your own world.

• You snap from your thoughts momentarily as you feel the bed dip. Glancing back you see Buggy staring at you as he ran his hand over your naked back.

• A shiver goes through you as you can't help but blush at his actions.

• "Bugs?" You ask calmly? Him only humming a response as he seemed to make up his mind.

• "Can I paint on your back? I have those skin safe paints" He asked, however already heading over to were he kept some clean brushes and said paints. You chuckling at this

• "Alright but don't make a mess" You hum as you settle into the bed once more

• Buggy returning with the paints as he saddled himself on you. Sitting very lightly on your ass and clearly making himself comforble.

• "Ah no funny business l" You say with a giggle as you feel him getting very comforble.

• "Of course~ I'm a gentleman afterall" He says. This making you both snort a laugh.

• He soon started, a chill going through your body at the cold paint hitting your skin but soothed by the almost ticklish touch of the brush strokes going down your body.

• You glance back only once to see Buggy in full consideration.

• Your book long forgotten as you laid there enjoying the slow and well thought out feeling of brush strokes on skin.

• It was incredibly relaxing for you.

• You didn't know even but eventually you dozed off and fell into a light sleep while Buggy was painting.

• He would gently shake you awake once he was finished and pepper a kiss on your cheek. "It's Done Doll, Wanna see?"

• You stretch and nod softly still trying to shake the sleep from you.

• He helps you up and uses two mirrors so you could see the finished work. Smiling brightly at the beautiful sunflower and butterfly painting that decorated your skin.

• "Oh Bugs its beautiful!" You gush, Smiling brightly at the sight. Half thinking this would be a fantastic tattoo idea!

• "I'm glad you like it my Muse~" He purred out and kissed your naked shoulder. A blush going across your cheeks as you rolled your eyes

• "Pervert, If I didn't know any better I'd say you used this as a way to get touchy~"

• "What if I say thats true?~" He said with a smirk. Rubbing his hands over your unpainted form.

• "Then I'd say you did a damn good job~" You purred out, Buggy Laughing at this as he scooped you up and tossed you back onto the bed. Earning laughs from both of you as he kissed you ravenously.

• The heat effecting both of you in a different way it seemed-

• The next morning you were pissed at the dried paint all over the bed sheets- Which you forced Buggy to clean.

[skyward-floored]

Here’s my (very late) birthday fic for @kikker-oma, it’s based off her art for day 17 of whumptober!

(Which at least one other person has already written a fic for but I didn’t realize until after I’d already started writing it so any similarities are pure coincidence 😅)

https://www.tumblr.com/kikker-oma/731400216730828800?source=share

I hope you like it Oma, happy (very belated) birthday!!!

————————————————————

Something was wrong with Legend.

Time could see it in the way the teenager walked, his steps heavy and dragging. How he lingered at the back of the group and barely spoke, mostly just nodding along to whatever it was Wind was telling him, and didn’t go out of his way to speak to anyone, his words sharp and vicious when he did.

Normally Time wouldn’t think twice about Legend being a little extra antisocial and standoffish. He was often grumpy (though Time had seen his soft interior once or twice in the brief time they’d been traveling together), and it wasn’t surprising his mood would get a little more severe now and then.

No, the worrying thing was that it had been several days since the behavior began, and it hadn’t gone away yet.

If anything, it had gotten worse.

Legend seemed to get more lethargic and snappish as they traveled across the wilderness of Wild’s Hyrule, keeping to himself even more intensely, and largely ignoring the rest of them. He’d gotten paler too, in just the few days of whatever this was, and Time was only growing more concerned.

It was worrying. Incredibly so.

Time had been keeping a closer eye on Legend ever since he’d realized something was up, and most of the others seemed to catch on that something was wrong as well, but nobody had confronted Legend about it yet. Or if they had, hadn’t succeeded at all in fixing the problem. Twilight had tried to tactfully approach the subject just that morning, and Legend had nearly bitten his head off in response.

Time wasn’t sure what to do, and he wasn’t the only one.

After all, none of them liked to admit something was wrong with themselves— Time himself was certainly guilty of that— but Legend, prickly as he was, was one of the worst. Confronting him head-on about whatever the issue was would only make him more likely to deny anything was wrong at all, as Twilight had already demonstrated earlier.

But someone needed to get through to him, before something snapped.

And later that day, Time finally got a chance.

They’d reached a good spot to stop for the night, Time watching Legend like a hawk the entire trip there. The veteran had nearly tripped on nothing a few times, but had covered it up so quickly nobody could call him out on it.

They had eaten dinner fairly quietly for once, Wild roasting some mushrooms and meat of some kind. Legend kept to himself during the meal, barely picking at his food, and staying out of the conversation. Everyone pretended not to watch, but it was almost laughable how obvious it was that they were all keeping an eye on him, the worry hanging like a cloud over the group.

And Legend seemed to have noticed the increased scrutiny, as later when the heroes were all settling down for the night— cleaning up dinner, getting out bed rolls— Legend stood and told them all he was going to patrol around.

“Really? Are you sure?” Hyrule piped up, and Four frowned from next to him when Legend nodded.

“...By yourself?” the smithy asked.

A very slight edge of concern lay in his voice, and Legend’s shoulders immediately hiked up to his ears.

“What, you think I can’t handle myself?” he shot back in a sharper tone than normal, and Four quickly raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

“Of course not Vet, I know you can,” he reassured, and Warriors stepped in.

“Exactly. It’s just dark, and we’re in unfamiliar territory, that’s all,” Warriors put in, and Legend turned to glare at him.

“Yet that’s never an issue when Twilight goes off by himself,” Legend snapped. “Shove off Captain. I’m the veteran, remember? I’ll be fine.”

Then before anyone could stop him, he disappeared into the trees.

All of them watched in an uncomfortable silence as Legend stomped away, and Time stopped Twilight when he went to follow him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Best we wait until he’s calmer,” he said, and Twilight exhaled, then sat down. “...And probably best someone who hasn’t made him mad yet go.”

“I think that’s just you at this point,” Sky pointed out, and Time paused, then sighed as he realized Sky was right. Every single one of the rest of the group had been the target of Legend’s ire in the past few days. Time somehow was the only one who had escaped unscathed... which made him the perfect candidate to follow Legend now.

“All right,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly, and settled down to wait.

“Hylia be with you,” Wild muttered as he cleaned his cooking pot. “You’re gonna need her.”

(...)

Half an hour later, as the others either went to bed or tried to busy themselves, Time got up and headed in the direction that Legend had stormed off in.

The moon was large and bright in the sky, and Time almost didn’t need the lantern he’d brought to find Legend’s trail. Though despite the moonlight lighting his path and the assistance of the lantern, it took Time much longer to find the hunched-over figure of Legend then he’d thought it would.

Legend had gone a fair distance from camp, and plunked himself down on a large fallen tree, his head bowed as he stared at the ground. He didn’t react when Time stepped a bit closer, and Time frowned as he watched him for a moment.

Were his shoulders shaking?

Time purposely crunched a few leaves to signal his presence, and Legend’s ear twitched in response. He didn’t do anything else though, and didn’t look at Time when he carefully sat down beside him on the log and set down the lantern.

An owl hooted nearby, and Time listened to it a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.

“They can be an overbearing bunch, can’t they?” he remarked in the silence, the owl going quiet.

Legend flicked an ear, and didn’t respond.

“...They mean well, though,” Time continued when the silence stretched between them. ”They’re not trying to be overwhelming, or even nuisances. They’re... just concerned about you, Vet.”

Legend let out a little huff of air that almost sounded amused.

“Right,” he said flatly. “Well they shouldn’t bother, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

His hand tightened where it was held around his waist, and Time couldn’t help but notice when it did. Legend’s face seemed paler in the moonlight shining down on it as well, but when he saw Time staring at him, he scowled.

“Go back to camp old man, I’m fine,” he muttered.

Time took a deep breath. Nayru grant me wisdom, here’s where it gets tricky.

“The way you’ve been acting the past few days seems to speak towards a different answer,” he said in a level voice.

“Well whatever it is you think you’ve noticed is all in your imagination,” Legend shot back, clutching his middle even tighter.

Time looked at it again, and paused in what he was about to say as a thought suddenly dawned on him. He couldn’t remember for sure, not everything at least, but if he was right... would Legend really do something so detrimental to his health like that?

“Legend... when was the last time you ate anything?”

Legend’s mouth turned into a thin, hard line.

Ah-ha.

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is if you’re pushing yourself not to for some reason,” Time said, firmness creeping into his tone as he watched the boy. “We have plenty of supplies Legend, why aren’t you eating?”

“I never said I wasn’t,” Legend snapped back, glaring at him. “And even if I am, maybe I’m just not hungry.”

“Not hungry at all?” Time asked with a raised eyebrow, thinking back to the past several days. “Legend, I don’t seem to recall you actually eating anything recently, you can’t just starve yourself.”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe it would be better for everyone if I did!”

Time blinked in surprise, and Legend’s anger seemed to falter a moment, something horribly vulnerable cracking through the prickly mask he’d thrown on. But he quickly tossed it back over himself, despite the tears trying to gather in his eyes, and his expression reverted back to the anger he’d possessed a few moments ago.

“Link,” Time said quietly, and Legend looked away. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Okay? Would you shove off?”

“Legend,” Time said imploringly, and Legend’s ears pinned back against his head.

“Look I’ve handled it alone before, I can handle it now,” Legend suddenly bit out, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just— nothing!”

“Nothing wouldn’t make you raise your voice like this,” Time pointed out.

“Well it is!” Legend said in a slightly quieter tone, though it still shook in anger.

Something in Time’s chest ached at the rawness in his voice and the tears that had returned to his eyes. Legend’s lip was trembling, but he was firmly biting down on it to stop it from doing so, and he looked like he was close to losing what control he had left.

Time studied him more intently, trailing carefully over skin flushed with anger, over shaking fists and shoulders, at the hand still held close to his middle.

The shakiness, refusing to eat, the paleness of his face...

Time’s eye widened as a new thought crossed his mind, and he exhaled, reaching a careful hand towards Legend.

“Link, you’re sick, aren’t you?” Time asked in a soft voice, and Legend’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “That’s at least part of this, isn’t it?”

Legend slapped away his extended hand.

“Go away,” he bit out, something truly dangerous in his voice, but Time was nearing the eye of the storm and he wasn’t prepared to back out now. “Go back to camp, wander in the woods or whatever, I don’t care. Just leave.”

“Legend,” Time said, shifting closer. “You can’t keep ignoring this. You nearly fell over earlier, how long have you been feeling ill?”

“There’s nothing to ignore,” Legend snarled. “Just— just leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that,” Time said, his voice soft, but firm. “You need help, and I won’t—”

“I don’t!” Legend shouted, his voice hoarse. He tried to get to his feet, but Time quickly caught him by the wrists, stopping him from leaving. “Just— let go!”

Time shook his head, and Legend tried to jerk out of his hold with no success.

The teenager’s wrists were warm in his grasp, and Time could feel them shaking, though he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or the illness Legend was fighting. Either way, he wasn’t making any headway in escaping, even though Time was sure Legend would have normally been halfway across the forest by now.

Legend tried to swing a fist at Time, but he didn’t succeed in the slightest, the older hero still holding him tight.

“What’s wrong, Link?” he asked, and Legend only struggled harder in his grip.

“Let go!”

Time shook his head, and Legend let out a cry of frustration.

His eyes were glassy with tears as he glared, and his breath came in short pants as he tried desperately to free himself. Legend’s facade of being perfectly fine had dropped in his anger and panic, and Time was now wondering how on earth any of them had missed just how bad things had gotten.

“Leave me ALONE old man!” Legend shouted.

But Time kept holding him, equally gentle and firm as he tried to lurch away. He met Legend’s eyes, stormy and swirling with emotion, and gave his hands a soft squeeze.

“Legend, son, please let me help you,” he said softly.

Legend’s face twisted with rage.

“Don’t call me that!” he nearly screamed, and tried one last time to pull Time’s arms out of his grip.

But he was too weak to free himself, the sickness affecting his strength. Legend couldn’t do anything but struggle, his breath coming in quick gasps, wrists trembling in Time’s hold as he tried to free himself with one last burst of desperation.

Then he crumpled forward, a sob wracking his body.

Time’s eye widened, and he caught Legend, immediately running a hand through his bangs. His forehead was hot where Time’s fingers brushed it, and Legend was shaking so hard he felt like he would fall apart, Time soothing him as he sobbed again.

“Legend, easy,” Time whispered, panic trying to burrow into his chest. He’d never seen Legend like this, screaming and crying and showing his emotions in such a blatantly un-Legend way. And he didn’t exactly have experience with soothing sobbing, feverish teenagers, but Legend was acting so strange...

There’s something else at play here then just a virus, Time thought worriedly, Legend letting out an unsightly hiccup.

All of Legend’s strength seemed to have been used up by their argument, and he lay nearly limp against Time’s arm, shivering, with tears still escaping the corners of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Link?” Time asked again, careful and soft.

This time Legend didn’t try to pull away or scream at him. He merely let out a quiet breath, one that shuddered on the exhale.

“I... I don’t...” Legend croaked, his eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t... again.”

“You can’t what?” Time asked, and Legend swallowed, tears trickling down his cheeks. Time shifted his grip a little so that Legend’s head rested more comfortably on his shoulder, and waited for him to continue.

“...Care,” Legend whispered finally. His hand tightened where it was fisted in Time’s shirt. “Every time I-I care, someone gets... hurt. I get hurt, I... I can’t again, not...”

He let out a shuddering breath, and his eyes squeezed more tightly shut.

“I don’t want you all to care,” he whispered.

Time looked down at the boy in his arms, shivering and feverish and trying so desperately to fight through it himself, and exhaled.

Oh.

Legend curled into himself at the admission, tears still falling down his cheeks, and Time suddenly saw himself, trying to keep a safe distance from everyone who tried to care for him, afraid of anyone slipping past his barriers and finding the scared little boy hiding behind so desperate for love.

Time swallowed.

We’re all horribly similar, are we not?

“...Being known is a terrifying thing,” Time said after several moments of silence drifted past, voice barely a whisper.

Legend shuddered again.

“I used to think it impossible,” Time whispered. “To be known, but not hurt. Drifting along and staying unattached seemed best, safer. Even when I was in desperate need of help, taking care of myself... seemed like it would hurt less. Without Malon, I have no doubts I would still be that way.”

Time sighed, and looked down at Legend, not even sure if the words were getting through his fever.

“Legend... you don’t have to tell us everything. But we are a team. Brothers, in spirit if not by blood. By merit of those things alone... we care for you,” he said simply. “I have no doubt that if any one of us were in the condition you’re currently in, you would be caring for them as fiercely as anything.“

Time shifted, and met Legend’s eyes, puffy and red, and bright with fever and exhaustion.

“Let us do the same for you.”

Legend closed his eyes and let his head fall back against Time’s shoulder, face scrunched slightly with pain. Several long moments went by, and then Legend let out an exhausted exhale, and gave Time the smallest nod he’d ever seen.

“...Sure. Fine,” he muttered, almost so quietly Time didn’t hear him. “...But only because my head is pounding so hard I can’t... think of anything better at the moment.”

“Trying is half the battle,” Time said with a faint smile, and Legend sighed again, heavy and exhausted.

Time pulled Legend up into his arms, and noted with a bit of worry that Legend was rather frail in his hold, still shivering. And normally the veteran would protest up and down about being carried, but Legend was completely silent, only a few leftover sniffles coming from him as Time hooked the lantern he’d brought to his belt so his hands would be free.

It truly was a miracle Legend had lasted this long without collapsing in front of them all— but Time knew the power of stubbornness when it came to this sort of thing. Malon was still mad at him for that time he’d tried to milk the cows when he’d had that broken wrist.

It was still impressive, though.

I wonder how long he’s had a fever, he wondered as Legend shifted in his arms. One this intense wouldn’t just appear... it must have been at least a day or two.

“...Don’t tell the others,” Legend suddenly whispered as Time began to walk back to camp, and Time looked down at him. “About... you know.”

Time nodded. “The only thing they get to know about is you being sick,” he promised, and Legend relaxed a bit further in his arms.

When they got back to camp, everyone stared, but nobody commented on Legend’s tear-streaked face, or the fact that he was shivering and being carried. Twilight made eye contact with Time, looking at Legend in concern, and Time mouthed the word ‘fever’.

Twilight’s face softened with understanding, and he quickly put out Legend’s bedroll so Time could get Legend into it.

Legend didn’t resist, and the others didn’t directly address the fact that he had obviously been hiding the fact that he was sick from them all. They merely went about their business, occasionally drifting by where Legend was lying in his bedroll, offering a few words, or some food, or just quiet company that offered to place a wet cloth on his forehead.

And when Legend finally fell asleep, he looked more relaxed then Time had seen him in weeks.

[the-moon-files]

Aaaaa, hi!! I'm the anon who sent in the fairly recent ask with the Guide!Reader ideas (martial artist mention, Dehydrated Ganon, strength possibilities, Ganon not being able to escape from Guide!Reader's voice, etc)! I'm really glad that you liked my ideas so much!! 😊 I was so pleasantly surprised to see you expand on my discombobulated thoughts, haha! Thank you so much! ^w^ I loved reading them!!

I said that I made memes for the Guide!Reader/Space Orc concept, and now I shall deliver them >:D Firstly, I'm super sorry that I took so long to share these with you!! Life decided to kick me in the shins for a hot second 😭 And secondly, I made a LOT of images for this one,, Fair warning, this is going to take up a lot of space 😭 orz

But anyway!! Here are the text memes first:

Guide!Reader: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Wars: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great.

Guide!Reader: Not when you’re playing with Zelda, it’s not. She’s out here putting in words like “ephemeral” while I’m putting in “dog.”

☆

Guide!Reader: *pointing out Magic Powder* Legend, look, it’s the good kush!

Legend: …This is the Rupee Store, how good can it be?

☆

Ravio: Hi, welcome! Are you part of our Super Savers Shoppers Club?

Guide!Reader: No, I’m not.

Ravio: :D :) :| Oh.

☆

Legend, looking into a banged-up Water Temple: …It’s trash.

☆

Time, whenever Guide!Reader uses modern slang: We need IRL subtitles. What are you even saying.

☆

Guide!Reader: My Furby died in my arms when I was a child.

Hyrule, has no clue what a Furby is: I’m so sorry for your loss.

Guide!Reader: It wasn’t a loss. I had never felt more like a god.

☆

The Chain: *getting told off by Time*

Guide!Reader in the back: …

Guide!Reader: *starts playing the ukulele* 👁👄👁 🎸

Time: 🧍

☆

Four, talking about Guide!Reader: So, I’m interested in someone…

Dot: :D Oooh! What do they look like?

Four: *slow realisation*

Four: I don’t know

Dot: Wh

Dot: What do you mean you don’t know?

☆

Guide!Reader/Ganon, about hearing Guide!Reader every dang game: The universe has a sense of humour, and I respect the commitment to the bit, but girl please.

☆

Guide!Reader, to Link once they reunite with the Chain: Now… *puts hand on his shoulder* We’re back on our bullsh*t.

☆

Guide!Reader and Wild, meeting Sidon for the first time:

Guide!Reader: …Would.

Wild: Would what?

Guide!Reader:

Wild: (Name)? Would what?

☆

Wind: When you become famous you’re called a legend because your leg ends.

Guide!Reader: What? 

Wind: Your leg. It ends.

Guide!Reader: I’m not a linguist, but I think you’ve got it wrong.

Wind: Are you saying your leg doesn’t end?

Guide!Reader: I mean, at some point it does, yes.

Wind: Then what’s the problem?

☆

The Chain, waking up at dawn to get ready:

Guide!Reader and Sky, just trying to process being alive:

☆

Guide!Reader/Time: You need to get out of bed faster than this.

Sky, struggling: I’m giving it all he’s got, boss

☆

Guide!Reader at Ganon: Your anger amuses me. Please don’t find inner peace. Please.

☆

Guide!Reader, playing through LoZ game: *at an annoying NPC* Let me ask you a very fair question. What do you do successfully? Quickly. :|

Link, trying not to laugh:

☆

Hyrule, probably: I hate it when a recipe tells me to add two cups of onions. They don’t come in cups. They come in onions.

Guide!Reader, head in hands: Please

☆

Hyrule/Twilight, looking at two NPCs: Are they lovers?

Guide!Reader, who knows the lore: Worse.

☆

The Chain, enjoying Guide!Reader’s affections:

Legend: 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

☆

Legend, defending himself from the “You like him” allegations from Wind: 🤸🤸🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

And now, onto the images- I hope you don't think the sheer amount of these memes is too excessive or anything!! 😭 /gen

Aaa and that's all the memes I've got! I hope you like them,,! orz

I'm also still pretty new to Tumblr, so I'm sorry if the format looks a bit weird,,

Oh, but also?? That last point you mentioned in your most recent post about the cultural differences between humans and Hylians on physical affection/touch?? I am VERY excited to see that,, 👀 👉👈 

U HAVE NO IDEA HOW IN LOVE W/UR BRAIN I AM RN

IM SO FUCKING ECSTATIC TO SEE THESE >>> ANYTHING IVE EVER WRITTEN U MADE MEMES??? FOR MY BS?????? DAOHGHOAKJSALKGFS;NDFKNDNFKJBDBFLN;

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

BLESS YOU, BEHEAMOTH SCREAMOTH MY BELOVED <3333

HAVE THAT HYLIANS V. HUMANS AFFECTION CULTURE POST HERE, THE ONLY PAYMENT I CAN THINK OF FOR THIS 😩😩 🛐 🛐 🛐

I LIED ITS TOO LONG, ITS GONNA BE A SEPERATE POST COME BACK AND PLS READ IT AS PAYMENT (but dont read the nsft/w if ur a minor)

BRO u got all the energy, and the dynamics i was pushing ilysm 🥺🫶

like the Hyrule = beloved agenda ive been pushing, bc i need more underrep links content, the way u carried the ganon eternally getting haunted by guide reader voice?? 10/10 ahdsfkhadl

AND WIND’S CONSTANT ENERGY OF A YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKIN U DEAD IN THE EYE LIKE “u kiss the homie (singular not even plural) goodnight?? Brother, that’s GAEY.”

u have no idea what this means to me, the impact, the understanding u have to have of my bs to make these, and how many posts youve read of mine?? im so sorry for ur loss w/my rough writing lmao

thats how you know youve made it tbh is if someone makes memes of smth u made, anyway day brightened, complexion clear, depression medicated, by this post

I HOPE BOTH SIDES OF UR PILLOW ARE COLD, UR PETS CUDDLE U EXTRA, U GET ALL THE GRADES/GOOD WORK SHIFTS U NEED

Peace out my beloved <3,

🌙

[craykaycee]

sneaks onto ur dash to talk ab one of my aus with these magma doodles------

This is a Street Artist AU I-- basically adopted from @starrspice (thank you, lovelyy!!) This is a post-fire AU where the DCA escapes the fire themselves and into the city. They're stripped of the proper prompts and triggers for their childcare and entertainment programming, but are able to find something their coding can latch onto: a group of children who need entertainment. They modified their performance and entertainment programming with their arts and crafts protocols to create art as a performance!

More details (so many details-- I went off xDD) and designs of the AU, of which I've titled "City Lights and Paint Water", under the cut :3c

They're pretty beat-up from the fire, and without proper access to maintenance, they've retained the burn marks, splattered paint, and other grime associated with being outdoors. Over the months as street artists, passersby donate their old paints and other supplies, hence the oversized trousers and worn apron! (P.S.: cloth placement is more accurate in the magma doodles)

Sun and Moon each have preferred mediums and styles!

Sun prefers acrylic paints and spray paint, his paintings a controlled chaos with loud, scattered colors, large brushstrokes, and splatters. His paintings always have a lot of movement due to his freeform painting style, splattering paint and getting a laugh from the kids.

Moon like to work with watercolors and colored pencil, the colors more muted with small pops of brighter colors (such as lights within windows). He likes to capture the lights of the streets, wondering what the true night sky looks like, his art giving a soft and ethereal mood.

Then we have our Main Character (MC), the viewer/reader! They're a graphic designer for a big corporate tech company, tasked with making pamphlets, brochures, posters, et cetera for the company. Though they do good work as a graphic designer, their true passion is fine arts, but their work isn't taken seriously due to its "childish" appearance despite the real-life deeper meanings. In the meantime, they create for themself, crafting and making trinkets for their apartment. They even make some of their own clothes, made up of several different garments to make something one-of-a-kind. Their outfits are fairly chaotic, typically accompanied by a hair accessory, but the patterns and colors compliment each other well.

MC grew up in a rural area, and still love the open and free areas it provides, but they had to move to an urban city for work and better opportunities. It's a big step up from their small town, overwhelmed by the activity. At the start of the story, they feel disconnected from their work, drained by the cookie-cutter bland work of their graphic designer job, but it's the only way they can reliably earn income.

The story starts with Sun spotting MC beyond the crowd, rushing somewhere. He continues to see them in the distance, unable to approach them due to their haste. He's mesmerized by their appearance, drawn to their creative expression just in their outfit. Moon catches a few glances of MC in the evenings, but doesn't have the same draw to them as Sun, figuring them as just another "everyman" in the crowd. One day, in MC's haste, they lose a paper from their portfolio. When Sun catches it, he sees a presentation sheet of several different designs meant for a business card or a t-shirt emblem. Sun is astounded by them, making MC more interesting than they already were.

It's not until about a week later that Sun takes an opportunity to return the paper and give his compliments. When he does this, however, MC's face falls before forcing a polite smile, thanking him. Before Sun could say anything more, they're gone.

There's so many small moments I'd like to explore, but that's the set-up :3cc I nearly have chapter one (1) completed, two (2) chapters after that already planned. The chapter length is pretty short right now, but I don't know if I wanna beef them up or keep them at this shorter length. We'll see! :D

Welp, these are my boios! I hold them gently in my hands and present them like a proud parent

[alwaysonthemend]

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @mindastreamofcolours Please don't throw tomatoes at me I know this has taken FAR too long (I'm the worst I'm so sorry) But I hope the length is enough of an apology for the wait. If you see any typos... no you didn't

Also sorry if you got tagged twice. Tumblr was against me posting this apparently and I was ✨struggling✨ but I think I got it fixed now.

Warnings: Fem!reader, threesome (no slash) / unprotected sex / spitting / spanking / oral (m. and f. receiving) / hand jobs / masturbation / voyeurism / arguing / josh being josh / jake being a little shit / dom and sub jake / dom and sub reader / soft!dom josh / MINORS ABSOLUTELY DNI. 18+ ONLY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Word Count: 7k+

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It started years ago – this little… arrangement that the three of you have. And at this point, none of you can even really remember how it had started. But, you suppose, the why and how don’t really matter anymore. 

All that matters is them. 

All that matters is that your life had changed from the very minute you were hired as their makeup artist. Your life changed to revolve around them and their needs. 

And you love every second of it. 

The rules (though none of you have ever really stated them outright) have always been simple. 

One: Don’t talk about it with anyone else. No one needs to know what goes on behind closed doors and no one needs to concern themselves with something they won’t understand. This works for you three and involving others would only complicate things. 

Two: No jealousy. At least, no more than a little showing out here and there. They work together (and they love each other more than anything else in the world) and this cannot ever get in the way. No questions, no pissing contests, no anger, no holding it against each other. There are nights where you leave with Josh and there are nights where you leave with Jake. There’s nothing else to it. 

And finally, three: Never at the same time. 

The arrangement is simple, really. You’re there to help them get their frustrations out now that they’re far too famous to be sleeping around with just any old roadie like the old days. They trust you. And you trust them. It’s easier this way for everyone. They get to blow off some steam and you get the most mind blowing sex of your life – all while getting to travel around the world doing what you love (for a handsome paycheck). 

Plus, there’s satisfaction in knowing that despite there being thousands of men and women out there who would give anything to have them the way you do… it’s you who they go to. It’s you who they trust. 

And anyways, you’re fairly certain that none of those screaming fans would be able to handle them like you can. 

Though it had taken time, you had learned over the years what makes each of them tick – the thing that drives each of them absolutely crazy. 

They’re both so similar and yet so different at the same time. Sun and moon, yin and yang… whatever you might call it – they balance each other in a way that few can understand. 

Their differences are subtle, and yet they make all the difference in the world. 

Josh loves to watch you. He wants to see how your face contorts in pleasure and how your tits bounce when he fucks you. He wants you on your back with your knees up to your chest so he can watch his cock slide in and out of you. He wants to watch you unravel around his cock as he whispers sweet things into your ear. Good girl, clever girl, beautiful girl. All you have to do is lay there and take it – let him pleasure you with his skilled tongue and big cock. Call him baby and Joshy in your sweetest voice and he falls apart inside your cunt, whining and moaning so prettily for you. Josh will give you orgasm after orgasm after orgasm until your body just can’t take it anymore and when you’re finally spent – laying there in a daze,  he’ll grin and kiss you softly. 

And then there’s Jake. Ever the dark to Josh’s light… he wants you to beg for it. He wants you cock drunk and desperate as he brings you to the edge over and over and over again until you’re left as nothing but a whiny mess beneath him. He demands respect. You call him sir or you will receive punishment. You do not cum unless he tells you to. You are obedient to him and him alone (though he always remains a slave to your pleasure despite himself). He likes you on your hands and knees where he can grip your hips and reach around to squeeze your throat as he pounds into you mercilessly. And his mouth. The vulgar things that spew from those plump lips of his leave you blushing like a schoolgirl. You’re his whore, his slut, his pretty little hole that he gets to use for the night. And when he finally, finally lets you cum…it’s the closest to Heaven on Earth that you’ll ever get. 

But yet, as different as they are from each other… they’re the same in all the ways that matter. Your pleasure is at the top of their priorities. As much as you are there to help them relieve themselves on the road… they never take you for granted. At the end of the day, you call the shots and you have both of them wrapped around your finger completely. They’ll follow you into the depths of Hell if you ask them – which you’re sure is where all three of you are headed anyway. It’s an addictive little dance that you all play and you’re sure that it can only lead you all down the path of destruction. And yet… none of you can find it in yourselves to care. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You already know that they’re pissed. You can practically smell it in the air as you wait patiently in the green room, waiting. 

They had already been having one of those days – where everything seems to go wrong and they’re both intent on blaming the other for it. You’d been watching them do their dance all day. Listening to their bickering and passive aggressive little remarks at each other as the hours wore on and on. As close as they are… as inseparable as they are, there are days when they can’t seem to stand each other. 

And unfortunately, the tension between the two of them had manifested itself on stage tonight. Of course, you’re 100% certain that none of the members of the audience had even noticed, but you had. And they sure had. 

Josh had been late to the curtain drop. Perpetually late to everything else, he’d always had the decency to at least be on time for his own concerts until tonight. Jake’s shoulders had tensed practically up to his ears at the confused sounds of the crowd as they realized that they were one man short and though you couldn’t see him, you’re sure that the glare that Josh had probably received had been pointed and harsh. 

And then of course Jake’s equipment had malfunctioned briefly, causing him to angrily gesture at his tech to get the problem fixed. It hadn’t taken longer than two minutes and few even noticed the mishap, but the shit eating grin that Josh had given Jake only added to his building rage. 

And finally, the nail in the metaphorical coffin for the night… Jake had decided that it would be a wonderful idea to cut Josh off in the middle of one of his little bits, effectively silencing his joke with a piercing whine from his guitar. 

You’d known immediately that it was over. They'd pushed each other far enough and you would be the one to suffer the (delicious) consequences. It’s just a matter of who gets to you first. 

If Jake reaches you first, you know that you’re in for a night of complete sexual agony and he’ll push you to your limit until he deems you’ve begged him enough for it before finally giving you an orgasm that you’re sure to remember for months to come. And you’ll surely be waking up tomorrow with a bright red ass and a hitch in your step. 

And if Josh gets to you, well… it’s harder to tell with him. Perhaps he’ll decide on a vibrator for the night – getting to watch you fall apart serving as the perfect distraction from his troubles. Or perhaps his tongue will instead be his weapon of choice, using it to make you cum until you physically can’t anymore. 

Either option sounds wonderful and you can’t quite tell which one you want more. The wait will be well worth it no matter which boy is the one to reach you first. 

– 

The sound of the door opening stirs you from your thoughts. You turn to see Josh (the lucky winner for the night) eyeing you like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. At this point, you’re pretty sure that you are. 

“Y/n.” 

That’s all he says. It’s all he has to say. Even from here you can see his eyes are blown wide and his chest heaves as his eyes drink in your form. Standing there, cloaked in velvet, he’s the picture of sin. The gemstones on his suit glitter as he stands there and you meet his hungry gaze with an innocent smile. 

“Hi, Joshy. Something wrong?” The lilt in your voice is sickly sweet, building up the tension that will inevitably make him snap. 

He only hums – the sound rumbling deep in his chest. 

“I think you know what's wrong, baby.” He whispers, dropping his hand down to palm his hard cock through the velvet. 

Well shit you think to yourself, an excited thrum coursing through your veins as slick pools between your thighs. If he's starting something here… he's desperate enough to not be able to wait for the short ride back to the hotel. All the signs are pointing to tonight being one that you won't forget. 

“Bad day?” You question, leaning back on the sofa where you're sitting and giving him your very best doe eyes. 

He nods, a sigh escaping from between his teeth as his hand grazes his crotch– his throbbing length obvious to you through the tight material. 

“Anything I can do to make you feel better?” This game is making you even wetter… the promise of what you know is to come. Without another word, you slide your body downwards until your knees hit the floor. You glance at him, patting the sofa with your palm. “Bet I can make you forget all about today, baby.”

“Fuck.”  He practically moans, biting his lip as he stalks across the room to look down at you. “You gonna be my sweet girl? Help me relax?” 

You nod, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock straining the fabric of his jumpsuit.

He grins devilishly, unzipping his suit and pulling the fabric down so that it rests around his thick thighs. With grace, he eases himself down to sit on the sofa, leaning back and spreading his legs. 

He never wears underwear in these tight suits and you’re grateful as you sit and stare at his cock. Flushed red and rock hard, it curves upwards to rest against his belly. 

Making a show of it, you hold your palm open and allow a string of saliva to drip from your mouth into your waiting hand. Josh groans at the sight and you waste no time as you wrap your palm around his length, slowly pumping him as you keep your eyes fixed on his. 

A flush has overtaken his cheeks and a light sheen of sweat beads at his hairline. He's got his plump bottom lip caught between his teeth as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back. He wants to watch you stroke his cock. 

You drop your focus to his throbbing erection, flicking your wrist as you continue to tease him. You press your thumb into the spot just beneath his head and a whine escapes him. You keep the pace slow – too slow for his liking. Working him up until he can't stand it anymore. 

“Don't tease, baby.” He whispers, his tone soft but demanding. 

His hand covers yours, halting your movement as he gazes down at you. You know what he wants. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, flattening the muscle as you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Fuck, there she is. My wonderful girl.” He mutters, placing the head of his cock on your tongue. He doesn't push in yet, instead taking a moment to admire the sight before him: you, on your knees, tongue obediently extended and your eyes glittering in the dim light. 

Slowly, teasingly, he slides his length into your mouth and you close your lips around him. Relaxing your jaw, you allow the blunt head of his length to hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly around it, exhaling strongly through your nose. Placing both of your palms on his thighs, you dig your fingers into the meat of them as you start to bob your head up and down. You keep your tongue pressed into the underside of him, drawing a loud moan from between his pretty lips. 

You pull out all the tricks you know, making sure to gag every now and then because you know it drives him wild. Tears stream down your cheeks and saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and Josh is quickly coming apart beneath you. 

Just as his cock begins to twitch, signaling his impending orgasm, you’re both broken from your moment at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You pull off him, wide eyes turning to be met with none other than his twin – a dark, dangerous look on his face. 

“What a fucking sight.” He says with a grin, stepping further into the room. 

Josh eyes him warily, his cock softening at Jake’s interruption. 

“What do you want, Jake?” You ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“You’re kinda interrupting something, here.” Josh says snidely, sitting up straighter and pulling his jumpsuit back up to cover his cock. 

“I didn’t say you had to stop.” Jake shrugs, taking a seat in the chair opposite the sofa. “Just patiently waiting for my turn, is all.” 

You quirk a brow at him. He’s never done this before – neither of them have. You can sense the tension and anger radiating off Josh – and Jake seems entirely too comfortable as he sits there watching, a smug little smirk on his face. 

“Wait somewhere else, then.” Josh demands, sitting up straighter and glaring at his brother. 

Jake only meets him with a grin, sitting back in his seat and spreading his legs to get more comfortable. 

“I’m good here. Won’t take long anyway.” 

Despite yourself, you huff a laugh at his joke and then it's your turn for Josh to glare at you.

“Fuck off, Jake.” Josh tells him, jerking his head for the door. “Be fucking thoughtful for once in your life.” 

Jake sits forwards suddenly, placing his elbows on his knees and narrowing his eyes. 

“That’s rich coming from you, brother. Easy for you to say when you always get your fucking way.” 

“That’s not true and you know it.” Josh snaps, eyes fiery. 

Jake scoffs. 

“Fucking diva.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Boys.” You cut in, wiping your palms on your thighs. “Enough. I’m not doing anything with either of you if you’re going to act like children. You,” you glance at Josh, “now you know that you can be controlling and nitpicky sometimes.” Josh’s eyes narrow at you and he opens his mouth to protest but you start in on Jake instead. 

“And you” You glare at Jake, washing the smirk off his face. “You know that you like to stir shit up and make people mad on purpose because you think it's funny. You both have been acting unreasonable all day and you will not be using me as a piece in your little games with each other.” 

Josh looks suitably chastised and Jake too has the decency to look a little guilty. You rise from your place on the floor, knees protesting slightly. Both of their brown eyes track your movements, their facial expressions exactly alike. Fucking twins you think to yourself. 

“Can you please make him leave?” Josh begs, pleading with you with his eyes and a tiny pout on his lips. 

“No. I’m the one who’s leaving. I’m not fucking either of you until this” you gesture between the two of them, “gets resolved. You both know what room I’m in. Get your shit together and figure it out.” 

With that, you stalk confidently across the room, throwing open the door and making your way to the exit of the venue. Just as you round the corner, faintly you can hear Josh’s voice – angry and high pitched, “You couldn’t even let me have one fucking moment with her, could you? You asshole!” 

Rolling your eyes, you call an Uber and wait for it to take you back to your hotel. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You take a nice, hot shower as soon as you get back. You take your time, allowing yourself to relax and forget about your idiotic twins. Once you get out and dry off, you check your phone to see a text from Jake. 

I’m sorry.  

You just giggle at the message. You know he’s never being malicious. But he does enjoy stirring shit up sometimes without really thinking about the consequences. You figure you’ll leave him on ‘read’ for now so he can sit there tonight and stew for a little bit.

Just as you turn it off, the screen lights up again with a text from Josh. 

im sorry baby

You figure you can answer him. He hadn’t been the one to try and involve you in their pissing match anyways. You send him a quick ‘It’s okay.’ before turning your phone off for good. Once changed into a pair of comfortable cotton panties and a tank top, you slip under the covers in the hopes of getting some good sleep. 

–  

A loud knock wakes you. 

Sitting up, you rub your eyes and try to get your bearings. You’d been sound asleep. 

Another knock against the door. 

“Fuck, coming!” You call, climbing out of bed and making your way to the door, fully expecting one of the twins to be waiting on the other side. 

The door swings open and you stop dead in your tracks. Both twins stand across the threshold, matching twinkles in their eyes. 

“Hey, angel.” Jake says kindly, as if both of them showing up at your door in the middle of the night is perfectly normal. 

“Um. Hi?”

“May we come in?” Josh asks you, grinning slightly as he takes in your state of (un) dress. 

“I guess?” You step aside, allowing them both to step into the room (annoyingly in sync as they walk). You close the door and lock it behind you. “Is everything okay?” 

“Wonderful, actually.” Jake says, plopping himself down in the desk chair and swiveling back around to look at you. 

“You and Josh figure things out, then?”

“Yup.” Josh says, popping the ‘p.’ 

“Great.” 

They’re both silent for a minute, making you squirm slightly under their dual gazes. They know something… or want something. You can feel it in the air. They’re up to something. Whether good or bad… you have no fucking clue. 

“Is there a reason that you’re both here?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the bed as Josh comes to stand in the middle of the room. 

“Yes. Though whether or not both of us stay is up to you.” Josh starts, glancing back at his twin for a moment before continuing. “See, we realized that we were both being a little overly dramatic today.” 

“Which Josh started.” Jake butts in. 

“Shut up, Jake.” Josh says, narrowing his eyes again and you’re worried that they’re going to start all over again. But Josh lets it slide. “And neither of us really want to give you up for the night seeing as how we’ve both had such a shit day.” He pauses and looks pointedly at Jake. “Regardless of who started it.” 

“And see… we thought that maybe – just this once, neither of us should have to wait. Figured that maybe we could share you for tonight.” Jake cuts in. 

“Share me?” You ask slowly, brain working a mile a minute as it tries to make sense of his words. Surely he doesn’t mean… right?

“Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” Josh says easily, hands moving about slightly as he speaks. “Or you can tell us to fuck off and we’ll leave you alone for the night.”

You swallow thickly, heart thrumming. 

“Share me…” You echo, brows pinched together. “As in, you both… with me. At the same time.” You speak slowly, still trying to wrap your head around the idea.

“In essence, yes. If you’d like to.” Jake says. 

You’re silent for a long moment – each of them waiting patiently for you to speak again. You’d be a big fat liar if you said that you hadn’t thought about it before. Having both of them… the ultimate sin that your mind loves to throw at you whenever you’re alone. Nights in between touring when you lay alone in bed, your own hand between your thighs to relieve the ache that the twins leave in their absence. Your thoughts – unable to choose, swirling between both of them. Their faces, the same but not, plaguing your mind’s eye and making your aching pussy soaked. Josh’s sugary words and Jake’s dirty compliments echoing through your ears all mixed up. The thought of having both of them at once – as wrong as it may be… just the thought alone usualy has you coming apart in seconds. 

And now here they are, offering you your deepest desire on a silver fucking platter. 

“Okay.”  You breathe out, voice shaky but sure. 

“You’re sure?” Josh asks, stepping towards you and brushing his fingertips down your cheek. “It’s your choice.”

“You won’t hurt our feelings by saying no.” Jake adds, smiling ever so softly at you. 

“And I’m saying yes.” You tell him with all the confidence that you can. Because you do want this. More than anything. You want to be fucking ruined. 

And yet… you’re not sure where to start. This is new territory – one that feels as though it’s too good to be true. Perhaps it is. 

“I believe I interrupted something earlier.” Jake says, once again leaning backwards in his chair. “Perhaps we can start by letting you finish what you started.”

Jake must have sensed your hesitance, deciding instead to tell you where to start. You’re infinitely grateful for him and his ability to sense when you need guidance.This is familiar for you – letting him take control. It’s natural the way his velvet voice tells you what to do. It makes this easy. 

You nod, gaze sweeping to where Josh stands, his face eager as he watches you slide off the bed to come and stand before him. 

“On your knees for me, sweet girl.” Josh whispers, easing his sweatpants off his hips and then hooking his fingers in the elastic of his boxers and pulls them down as well. He’s already hard and leaking, probably aching to be touched after being interrupted earlier. Slowly, you ease down onto your knees. 

“Suck his cock, angel. Make him feel good.” Jake’s voice is smooth as whiskey, just barely above a whisper. 

You do as he says, opening wide and letting Josh slide his cock back into your waiting mouth. 

“Shit.” He hisses, tossing his head back as his tip hits your throat. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair as he begins to thrust into you softly, giving your throat a moment to adjust to the intrusion before picking up his pace. 

You can feel the wetness between your thighs as you sit there letting him use your mouth – the cotton of your panties surely completely drenched through. Something about the noises Josh is making coupled with the feeling of Jake’s dark gaze on you has you feeling like you could come completely untouched before the night is over. 

The sound of a zipper being undone has you pull off Josh and snap your gaze over to Jake – Josh whimpers at the loss of contact but you’re more concerned with the sight of Jake easing his own hard cock from his pants and wrapping his fist around himself. He strokes his hard length lazily, eyes never leaving you. 

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asks, a sharp edge to his voice. “Keep sucking him, angel. You look so pretty like that.”

Josh’s finger hooks beneath your chin, forcing your focus back onto him and you gasp at the sight. His eyes, normally a soft brown, are blown almost black with lust. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is heavy as he gazes down at you. 

“Focus on me.” He says softly, his thumb coming down to caress your bottom lip. He tugs at it, dragging it downwards slightly before gripping your jaw a little harder. 

You take the hint and open your mouth again. 

“Good girl.” 

This time, you do give him your full attention as his thrusts into your mouth grow more confident. You gag around him and you hear Jake let out a quiet little groan at the sound. Spurred on, you relax your jaw even more, taking Josh even deeper. 

“Oh fuck.” Josh whines, head tossed back in pleasure. “Good fucking girl.” 

His cock twitches on your tongue and he pulls out, a string of saliva connecting his flushed tip to your mouth. 

You pout slightly, having wanted to taste his release but he only smiles at you. 

“Not yet, baby. I wanna savor this.” He caresses your jaw lovingly. “On the bed.” 

You hastily comply, scrambling to sit in the middle of the large bed and looking at your twins – waiting for them to tell you what to do. 

“Look at that.” Jake says with no small amount of pride in his voice as he stands up and begins to strip from his clothes before striding over to the side of the bed. You take a long moment to admire him. 

You eye the way his biceps and forearms flex as he moves, your mouth waters as you admire his plush thighs, and your own thighs clench at the way the strength of his body is balanced by his curves that are so rare to find in a man. He’s nothing short of breathtaking.

“Always so eager to please. Just waiting to be told what to do.”  He hums, hand still lazily stroking his leaking cock. “Strip.”

“That’s a good girl.” Josh mutters, watching you with hungry eyes as you pull your tank top over your head and slide your soaked panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor. 

Josh, the only one still clothed, begins to strip himself – but your focus is ripped from him as Jake comes to stand at the edge of the bed. He grips your calf in his strong, calloused hand, using it to yank your body around and onto your back. There’s no finesse to his movements as he manhandles you into the position he wants, the hunger in his eyes infinitely clear. 

Once on your back, Josh climbs into the bed between your thighs. He settles his weight between them, using his palms to spread your legs wider and exposing your glistening folds. His back muscles flex as his lithe form settles, his amber eyes glittering up at you. 

“She’s dripping.” Josh murmurs, tongue darting out to lick his plush bottom lip. “Stunning.” 

You whine, inching your hips towards him slightly, your core aching to be touched. 

“Desperate little thing.” Jake’s velvet voice rings out through the room, his hand coming down to tangle in your hair. He stands at the edge of the bed, his hard cock merely inches away from where your head hangs off the edge.

Another pulse of need rocks through you as your brain catches on to the possibilities that this position grants you. With Josh nestled between your thighs and Jake’s aching member so close to your mouth, you have no doubts about where this is going. 

As if in answer to your sinful thoughts, Josh swipes a finger through your folds, just barely brushing against your swollen clit and making you jolt. 

“Josh, please.” You whine, spreading your legs wider for him – begging him silently to give you more. 

“She just loves to be eaten out, don’t you?” Jake murmurs, looking down at you squirm on the bed. “Go ahead, Josh. Give her what she wants.” 

Josh relents, delving into your core and circling your bundle of nerves with his tongue. The feeling is sudden – aggressive even, and the stimulation makes you cry out loudly. He hooks his arms around both of your thighs as he begins his assault, using his talented tongue to completely unravel you. 

Jake, never one to let the spotlight last on Josh for too long, taps the head of his cock on your lips. Without hesitation, you open your mouth and let him slide his member between your lips. With your neck hanging downwards, he reaches all the way to your throat with ease. You moan and swallow around him, making his composure crack slightly as a groan escapes him.

“Fuck. Perfect little mouth.” He praises, beginning to thrust delicately into you. “Tap on my thigh and I’ll stop.” He says through clenched teeth and all you can do is moan around his cock in response. 

Josh’s slender fingers suddenly join in the mix as he plunges them into you – curling them in a way that makes your legs feel like jelly as he keeps lapping at your clit with your tongue. He moans as he does so, his hips rutting into the mattress below him as he pleasures you. 

If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’re sure that you’d be screaming from the pleasure. Between Josh’s menstrations and the sound of Jake’s breathy moans as he fucks into your mouth, your orgasm is already rapidly approaching. 

Your arms thrash about widely, finally coming down to fist into the sheets as the crest of pleasure builds within you. Josh is unrelenting, using all the things that he knows makes you fall apart. Jake is faring no better than you, his face twisting and contorting in pleasure. 

“Come on, Y/n. Be a good slut and cum, baby.” He encourages, voice shaky with his own pleasure. “Enjoy it. You’re not gonna get another one for a long while.” 

With that, the band snaps and your orgasm rips through you – drenching Josh’s face as he works you through it. Jake pulls from your mouth, allowing you a chance to get a full gulp of air as you writhe beneath them. 

Josh sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning from ear to ear. 

“Tastes like candy.” He says, licking his lips as he gazes at your spread out form. 

All you can do is lay there stunned for a moment as you recover, chest heaving. 

“She’s a sight for sore eyes.” Jake murmurs, caressing your jawline with his pointer finger. “Bet that pretty pussy is just aching to get fucked, isn’t she?” 

You nod, body already aching for another orgasm. 

“Does my beautiful girl want my cock?” Josh asks, gripping your ankles and pulling so that your head now rests fully on the bed. 

Just as you open your mouth to reply, Jake cuts in with a dangerous lilt to his voice. 

“Don’t assume, brother. Maybe she’d prefer someone else’s.” 

“Doubtful.” Josh snarks, glaring daggers at his twin. 

“Fuck, stop.” You breathe out, sitting up to glare at both of them. You try to keep your face stern, but the thought of both of them arguing over who gets to fuck you has more slick pooling between your thighs. “No arguing.” 

“Your choice then, baby.” Josh grins, a smug smile on his face as if he already knows your answer. 

But in truth, even you don’t know. In fact, you have half a mind to let them continue arguing if only to further fuel the fire between your legs. But you figure that encouraging them would only end in all out warfare. Instead, you just grin at them, a wonderful idea coming to life in your mind. 

“Jake.” You start, turning to meet his dark eyes. “Get on the bed.” 

He grins and complies, eyes glittering thinking that he’s going to get his way. He always does when it comes to the bedroom, but tonight you want to challenge him – remind him and Josh who’s really in charge here. 

Jake crawls over to you, a dominant air about him as he moves to smother your body with his own. But instead of allowing it, you press your palm into his chest and push – shoving his back roughly into the headboard. 

Air escapes his lips in a shocked huff as he stares at you – completely taken off guard. Josh, seeing his expression, laughs quietly.  

“Angel, what-” 

You shush him. 

“Quiet.” You glance between him and Josh. “You both said that I’m in control, didn’t you?” You ask, though it’s not really a question. You all know the answer. 

Jake nods and Josh whispers a quiet ‘yes.’

With a grin, you turn your eyes to face Josh, his lips parted and eyes watching your every move – just waiting for you to tell him what you want. 

Without a word, you nudge Jake’s legs further apart before settling yourself on your knees between them. His chest moves up and down rapidly as he looks up at you. Though he’s letting you call the shots, you’re sure that you’ll pay for it some other time. But for now, you’re going to enjoy it.

“You know, Jake…” You murmur, sweeping your palms up his thighs and feeling the muscle twitch beneath your fingertips, “You love calling the shots. Maybe even more than Josh does.” You drop your hand to play with his cock – lightly pinching his tip between your fingertips and making his hips buck upwards off the bed. “I feel like maybe it might be time for a taste of your own medicine, yeah?” 

A delicate, almost silent whimper escapes him. It’s so quiet that you might have thought you imagined it… but the way his cock twitches and his chest heaves gives him away. 

“Josh?” Josh, sitting silently and watching you, perks up as you finally turn your attention back to him. “Come here, baby. Right behind me.”

Josh complies, crawling over behind where you sit between Jake’s thighs. Without a word, you slowly ease your chest downwards, spreading your own thighs and allowing your ass to stick up invitingly in the air for Josh. You wiggle your ass and a shaky exhale punches out of him, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

As he does so, you sweep your gaze up to meet Jake’s eyes – his pupils blown wide with want. Opening your mouth, you teasingly lick up his shaft, swirling the tip of your tongue around his head, before pulling your mouth away again. 

“You don’t get to come until I say. Understand?” 

He nods and you wrap your arms around his thighs and dig your fingers into the soft flesh. 

“Words.”

“I understand, angel.” 

Tossing your head back over your shoulder to look at Josh, you ease your hips back towards him again. 

“Let me fuck you, pretty girl.” He begs, his hard cock pressing into your ass cheek as he waits for your permission. 

“Go ahead, Joshy.” You tell him, keeping your voice nice and sweet just like he likes. “Make me feel good.” 

You descend your mouth back onto Jake’s aching cock as Josh enters you with one long thrust. You moan, causing Jake to groan at the vibration. 

“Fuck, just like that.” Jake moans, his hand coming up to grip your hair but you swat it away. You want to enjoy the control for a while longer. 

Josh’s hips slam into yours rhythmically, his pace slow and precise. With each glide of his cock against your walls, his head nails that special place inside of you. It takes all of your focus to keep bobbing your head up and down Jake’s length, making sure to keep your tongue pressing up into him – making him writhe and moan as he fights to keep himself from rutting his hips up into your mouth. 

“Baby,” Josh moans, his voice sounding wrecked as his hips increase their speed. “Fuck, I can feel you fluttering around me.” 

The wet sound coming from between your thighs coupled with the sound of Josh’s skin hitting yours and the sound of your mouth moving up and down Jake’s cock makes a delightfully symphony of pure lust and sin. You know already that this night will forever be cemented in your mind for years to come. You will never be able to think of it without growing wet. Josh’s cock is stretching you so wonderfully and Jake’s pretty noises are making your clit throb. 

Saliva dribbles out of the sides of your mouth, drenching Jake’s cock and just by the sound of him alone you can tell that he’s close. Josh’s pace is beginning to grow frenzied, his breaths coming out in tiny little moans as his own orgasm approaches. Hearing both of them, Jake’s hot, aching cock twitching on your tongue, Josh’s cock hitting all the right places… it’s like every one of your senses has been overtaken with them. Their sounds, the feel of them. Fuck it’s the best feeling in the whole fucking world. And as much as you don’t want this to end, you just can’t fight your orgasm anymore. 

You cry out around Jake’s cock, throat constricting around him as your release rips through you. Josh is a moaning mess as his own orgasm overtakes him, his cock painting your walls as he buries himself inside of you. His hips keep going, overstimulating himself with your clenching pussy as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Finally he pulls out, murmuring praises for you as he tries to calm down. 

Through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind, you register Jake’s cock twitching on your tongue. He needs to cum, his whines echoing over the roaring in your ears as he holds himself back, waiting for your permission. 

You pull off him, robbing him of his finish and a feral growl escapes him at the loss. You’ve enjoyed not giving him what he wants and the power has gone to your head it seems. But you’ve pushed it too far. 

Faster than what you thought possible, Jake sits up and fists your hair in his grasp. He yanks backwards, exposing your throat for him and you can’t help but moan. 

“Brat.” He whispers, leaning in close to you. His eyes look over your shoulder to Josh, who’s eyeing the both of you warily. “Move.” Jake demands, but Josh doesn’t do it. “Move.” He demands again, eyes blazing. 

A fresh wave of slick escapes you, dripping down your thighs and drenching the bed below at the anger in Jake’s voice. Making him wait, telling him what to do… it had been wonderful while it lasted but this is the Jake that you want. 

“Josh.” You whine, unable to face him fully because of Jake’s hold on your hair. “Do as he says.” 

Gingerly, Josh moves up in the bed. As soon as he’s out of the way, Jake grips your waist and flips you, pushing your back into the mattress as he hovers over you. His cock, neglected and no doubt aching, grazes your stomach and your thighs clench together in the hopes of soothing the ache there. 

“I agree to share you for the night, I let you call all the shots. Fuck I even let Josh be the one to fuck you…” He says darkly, his fingers gripping your sides and digging into your skin harshly. “And this is what I get in return, huh?” He laughs, sitting up just a bit to grip his cock in his hand and pump himself a few times, his precum making it easy for him. “No more nice. You’re gonna lie here,” he says, sliding his tip through your wet folds. “And you’re gonna fucking take it.” 

Josh, breaking his silence at last, leans back onto the headboard and spreads his legs. 

“Be good for him, baby girl. Just lie there and look pretty doing it.” 

The shock of his words has you momentarily breathless but then Jake spears you with his cock, effectively silencing your thoughts of anything other than the feeling of him stretching you. You cry out, hands fisting in the sheets at your sides as Jake starts a merciless pace. His hips are like lightning, pounding into you at a pace that you’ve never experienced before. 

From the corner of your vision you can see Josh, his hand dropping between his thighs, his dick rock hard yet again despite having only just cum moments before. He moans your name at the first glide of his hand over his cock, his knees falling open wider and his jaw hanging slack with pleasure. 

"You look so fucking pretty like that, baby." Josh's words come out shaky thanks to the pleasure coursing through him. "Fucking hell."

Jake, his face contorted in almost a snarl, snaps his hips into yours like a man possessed. It’s so fast and so soon after your last orgasm that your pussy feels like it's on fire – icy hot sparks mixing with the pleasure as your body trembles beneath him. You open your mouth to speak – to demand more or for him to stop you have no idea, but all that comes out is a high pitched, whiny moan. 

“I don’t fucking care.” Jake grits out, licking his thumb and dropping it to circle your clit. Your body jolts, the pain of overstimulation finally melting away to fiery pleasure.

Josh’s moans grow louder, the sound of his fist over his cock matching the pace of Jake’s hips – brutally fast and unforgiving. Your name falls from between his lips, interrupted only by groans and whimpers as he brings himself to the edge yet again. 

"Cum for us, baby. Make a mess." Josh encourages, his hand never slowing.

"Give it to me. Come on, angel." Jake's demand is firm but his voice wavers and cracks as he holds himself back.

The band that has been building and building in your lower belly finally snaps and your whole body goes taut, your muscles contracting and shaking uncontrollably as your release washes over you. Jake’s pace finally falters, his hips stuttering and a loud, feral groan falling from between his plump lips as he finally finishes. Josh’s voice rings out as he paints his hand and belly, his own release hitting him at the sight of you. 

– 

As the fog of lust and wanton, filthy desire finally begins to dissipate, the three of you are left lying there trying to get your breathing back under control. As harshly as Jake had been fucking into you just moments before, he’s delicate and soft as he slowly pulls out of you. His hands caress your sides, his rough fingertips ghosting over your skin and making goosebumps rise in their wake. Josh sits up and leans forward to brush your sweaty hair from your forehead. 

You smile lazily up at them, body still buzzing with pleasure but tiredness leaching into your muscles. 

“Better now?” You murmur, a lazy smile on your lips. 

“Infinitely.” Josh answers you, eyes glittering.

“Thank you, angel.” Jake says, pressing a feather light kiss to your belly. “So good for us.” 

“The best, even.” Josh adds, tone equally soft as Jake’s kiss. “And all ours.”

“All yours.” Is all your tired brain can come up with to answer. And it's the truth. You’re theirs. Completely. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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[selfindulgentpixies]

Parchment and coffee stains

Almost Kaveh x GN!reader

possible Kaveh x Reader x Alhaitham in future parts if I continue

You're an artist to happens to see a pretty stranger in a cafe, through your art you find the courage to reach out.

Reader is shorter than Kaveh and described as not being from Sumeru.

This scenario was inspired by Kaveh's line in game about forgetting him umbrella.

word count: 1641

The blank page before you feels daunting even as you’re swaddled in the warmth of the cafe. You’re tucked away, alone in a corner with a fresh sheaf of drawing paper, the first page beneath the cover challenging you. This drawing would set the tone for the new sketchbook. You’re aware you’re being dramatic as you lay down the daunting object to pick up your coffee for a sip. The warmth spreading across your tongue comforting you amidst the chatter of the cafe’, while there’s the tell-tale pattering of rain against the stained glass behind your head. It makes you glad you decided to bring your umbrella just in case when you saw the heavy clouds on your way out the door earlier.

Amidst the sights and smells a laugh chimes above the soft din of chatter of the many students seated at various tables. Looking for the source you see a flip of golden hair complimented by a lovely blue feather that if you had to guess was a quill pen of some sort. The person, a man if you had to guess but couldn’t be sure, was stunning. Your fingers twitch for your pencil and your sketch book finds its way back into your hands. You don’t give it any thought really, people watching and drawing were fairly normal practice, but you almost felt compelled in this moment. You watch from the corner of your eye, pencil gliding across the page, the slope of his nose, the elegant column of his throat, a lock of artfully swooping hair. His burnt umber eyes beautiful in color framed by elegant lashes making you wish you’d brought your colored pencils or paints despite the impracticality of bringing them to a cafe.

You’re snapped out of your near meditative state when he gets up to leave. It’s a snap decision then when you move your pencil with a flourish in the corner of the page before beginning to quickly pack up your things. You doubt you’ll catch him before he vanishes into the bustling streets but you have to try.

You nearly stumble right into his back when you step out beneath the cafe’s awning. 

“-Oh no, I forgot to bring my umbrella” You catch him saying, dismay lacing his voice as he stares out at the rain now pouring onto the streets, flowing over stone tiles like a man made river.

At your side your fingers smooth over the handle of your umbrella before you step forward. Your heart flutters just like the sound of your umbrella opening. You lift your gaze in time with your umbrella as you bring it high enough to cover both of you if you were to step out into the rain at the same time. Your eyes meet. “If you don’t have too far to go I can walk you to wherever it is you need to go?”

Dark blonde eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “Oh goodness I couldn’t impose like that. I really appreciate it though.” And even if he says that  there’s clear doubt clouding his eyes as he looks into the downpour. 

“You’re not imposing if I’m offering. If you’re going somewhere in the city it’s no trouble at all to make sure you don’t get entirely soaked.” 

He sighs but smiles a little. “If you’re really sure.”

“I am,” you say with a nod, proud of yourself for getting up the courage to speak with this pretty stranger. Not only that but you’ve gotten yourself the chance to spend at least a short bit of time with him. 

You go to fall into step beside him as he steps out from the awning only to hear him hiss, one of the ribs of your umbrella catching his hair due to your difference in height. “Ah! I’m so sorry, here allow me to” -you both hold the umbrella steady so as not to tug on his hair further.

“It’s alright really,” he says as your hands brush while you gently free his hair. You rock back from standing on your toes to flats of your feet.

 “Maybe.. You should carry the umbrella instead?” you offer while hoping that heat in your cheeks isn't obvious to him. “I may be a bit too short to hold this above your head the whole way.”

His wince morphs into a lil smile and a laugh. “Yes I think that might be a good idea.” Lightly calloused fingers brush against your own as he takes the offered umbrella. “Shall we?” he nods toward the stone path. 

This time when the two of you step forward it’s much more successful, no tangled hair or embarrassment, just the muted sounds of footsteps on wet stone. He’s mindful despite his longer stride he walks at a pace that allows him to keep in step with you so that you stay dry. 

“How far is it that you need to go?”  You tilt your head a bit as you glance up at him.

“Not terribly far. The worst of it is that it’s a bit of an incline the whole way so I hope that’s alright with you.” 

“Oh! Not at all. I kinda figured we may have to do a bit of walking up and down. Sort of what I’ve come to expect in Sumeru city, “ you give a small shrug of your shoulders.

He nods. “Hmm. It’s better than stairs but it’s often not as accessible as it could be. A large elevator like in port Ormos could certainly be of benefit.” Somehow you get the feeling he was saying that more to himself than you.

“Something like that would be helpful, it would also be good for getting bulk goods around the city. There’s actually an elevator like that in Yilong Warf in the north most part of Liyue. It links the lower and upper sections of the city that are separated by a waterfall so it’s essential but some of it’s accessibility is hampered by the fact that you need to take stairs on and off of it. At least if I’m recalling correctly, it has been a bit since I was there.” You don’t miss the surprised shift in the man’s expression as he looks at you. 

“Accessibility in architecture is often something that gets neglected unfortunately, too many people get caught up in the aesthetics or practicality that only applies to the most able bodied, leaving the elderly or others with mobility issues to struggle-” this conversation continues most of the walk, you’d had no idea that you’d hit on a topic he’d have so much insight into nor so many opinions.  You didn’t mind listening to him though. You were getting the impression that he was someone who you’d enjoy hearing what he’d have to say on quite a lot.

As you walk alongside him, nodding in all the right places and adding your thoughts where you can, your fingers play against the clasp of your satchel. Your sketch book tucked securely inside along with the portrait you’d sketched out of the man. What would he think of it? Would it be too weird to show him? Would he be offended you drew him? Upset you didn’t ask? Or would he be flattered? Nevermind how some people feel about the arts in Sumeru still, though he seems like someone who appreciates them if anything.

You’re only pulled from these thoughts when for the second time today you nearly walk into him just as he turns to face a pretty lil house. Your journey ending much like it started with the two of you standing under an awning. “And here we are. Thank you lending me your umbrella and sorry if I talked your ear off.” 

“Ah no worries, it was no trouble. And honestly you were really interesting to listen to.” You chew at your lower lip. “Before I go.. And I hope this isn’t too weird.. I want to give you something,” as you speak you open your bag and pull out your sketch book, opening it and delicately pulling out the page to hand to him. Those pretty umber eyes of his widen as he takes the portrait in his free hand. Clearly taken aback to see himself in a candid moment of joy. 

As he works to find his words and your stomach swims with butterflies the front door to his home opens, revealing another attractive man though this one had a more intimidating air to him. “Ah Kaveh, there you are-” he looks from Kaveh and the portrait to you and back again. “And who’s this?” 

“O-oh i’m uh, actually i’m just leaving,” You squeak in a way that has you kicking yourself. “ You can keep the portrait and uh, take care now!” And with that you're turning on your heel into the rain, slipping in your haste but keeping your balance enough to not land on your ass and make your retreat into the rain. Without your umbrella. Your umbrella still in the man’s, Kaveh’s, hand. 

“Hey wait!” He goes to step after you. You ignore him, all your courage from before gone. Later you’ll kick yourself for running off like this but for now you continue on. As you vanish his shoulders sag. “And they’re gone… I didn’t even get their name.” 

Alhaitham leans over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I assume they drew this right?” Without actually touching the page his index finger underlines the quick signature you’d made in the cafe’ before following Kaveh. 

“Oh!” Kaveh reads your name outloud, almost tasting it. “There aren’t too many foreign artists here in Sumeru, and with a name you should at least be able to return their umbrella.”

To say you feel stupid and embarrassed as you stand soaked in your lodgings would be an understatement.

Ahhh I hope you guys enjoy this. It's very self indulgent as it's how i imagine myself meeting Kaveh and by extension Alhaitham. I may expand on this and give everyone a part 2. Really this is disaster artist for disaster artist and the man who keeps them balanced.

Special thank to @threnodians for reading over my fic and for making me these dividers

Tag list: @kaedescara @pastelle-rabbit @kweenkatsuki-fics @zorosdimples @strawberrystepmom

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two

TW: nsfw, blood, trauma

Tom busts into the room. Someone’s yelling behind him about red tape and policy, like they don’t even know who he is in the first place. He’s blood and sweat coated, a fine grime glazing his skin, and still the most handsome and soothing thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Yes, even with the pickle juice smell and cornchip residue in his hair. “You alright?” He asks, kneeling down and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“I’m fine,” you say. “I see this stuff all the time.” 

“Is he being an asshole?” He asks, glaring over at your interviewer in his two piece suit— the man looks about ready to either piss himself or strangle Ludlow. 

“No, just a dick,” you joke before really thinking about it, and now you’ve earned yourself a scowl from the gentleman asking you questions who has actually and surprisingly been pretty nice. “I’m just kidding,” you reassure him, “inside joke.”

He looks to Ludlow, then back at you with his eyebrows raised as if he gets the whole picture now. You don’t really understand why you’re embarrassed about it. After all, if you’re going to date—what a weird word and even weirder thought—Tom Ludlow, you’ll probably meet his coworkers at some point. 

“Stare a little longer, Brixton,” Tom warns. 

You turn fully to the angry man beside you and rest your hand on his shoulder. “I’m alright. He’s going through suspect pictures. That’s all.”

“Any luck?” 

You hate to dash that hopeful lilt in his voice. “Not yet.” 

“But we still have a lot to go through,” Brixton says, interrupting the intensity between you and Tom. 

“No shit,” Tom smiles. 

5 million criminal profiles, four cups of disgusting coffee, and an actual migraine later, you are still shit out of luck. Looking at Brixton hopelessly, head in your arms, eyes almost as red as the blood stains on your clothes. “So, what if it’s none of these?” You ask. 

“Could be someone new, someone we haven’t identified yet. Like I said initially, if it isn’t any of the ones I show you, you should be fairly safe. Low level criminals don’t usually care about witnesses.”

“Low level?” You ask, eyebrows pulling up. “They shot up a convenience store with submachine guns.” 

He shrugs. “You’d be surprised at how easy it is to get ahold of those in this town.” 

“Okay,” you sigh, “can I go, then?” 

He looks at you for a long minute. “You gave your description to the sketch artist?” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Alright, pack up.” 

Seeing Tom is terrifying, and not because he’s a walking bloodbath. It’s terrifying that you can tell so easily, even from a distance, the man is in a rage. Berserk, boiling with dark energy, the kind that has your stomach tied up and your body tensing. “Are you alright?” As he’s walking you out of the precinct, a possessive hand on your waist. 

“Let’s just get you home, cleaned up, then we’ll talk.” 

“Okay.” You stay silent the entire car ride to your house, then all the way up to your apartment. The doorway breaks his silence. 

“He’s alive, thanks to you.” 

You let out a breath that got stuck in your lungs a long time ago at the store when the last bullet pierced Washington’s chest. You don’t understand why Tom feels the way he does about his old partner. After all, the man is attempting to throw him directly under the bus without a second thought, so you’re not really relieved that you saved Washington’s life, but rather that, for some reason, Tom seems content with the whole thing. “That’s good,” you say quietly. “Right?” 

“Honestly…” he trails off, looking at the floor like he’s having some internal struggle about what he really feels; something you can relate to all too well. “I’m glad that you’re alright.” He crosses the room in a long legged stride, and bundles you up in his arms. “That’s the only thing I care about.” 

And you thought you were fucked before…

“Let’s get clean, and go see the movie.” He sounds lighter, now, but you just know there’s something he’s holding back—trying not to tell you. You can feel it in the way he holds you, see it in the hard black of his eyes, taste it in the air like you can the dried mephitic blood. 

“We don’t have to do that,” you assure. 

“I want to.” 

You’re not sure you really feel like sitting through a movie, but it seems important to him, to do something normal. Maybe that’s the way he copes with the horrible things he sees in his job. Forcing himself to do normal things. Or maybe…he just really wants to spend time with you.

You take a shower together–to save water, obviously. California is experiencing a drought. You get distracted though, for obvious reasons, and “we’re gonna be late,” you groan, as he sucks up the mess between your thighs. “Thought you-ah-wanted, wanted.” 

He shushes you with the taste of yourself, licking at your tongue, pressing you against the soaked tile, hands cupping your breasts. “I’m sorry, baby, you’re just so fucking pretty.” He talks against your mouth, then delves back inside to clash teeth again. “How am I supposed to resist you?” 

Possessive, needy, insistent Tom fucks you nice and slow on your bathroom floor with your legs pressed against your chest and knees hooked over his shoulders; a recipe for a deep, splitting angle that makes you scream. He pauses that lovely, skilled glide of his hips and pushes hair from your face. “You alright?” 

“Jesus. Fuck. Yes! Yes. Why did you stop?” Because he was pummeling your gspot with every thrust, and it felt like nirvana and you need him to move again—oh, there he is, at the same pace, even—an expert in making you see God and the Devil all at once. You don’t know how many times you cum like that, pressed against the plush bathroom rug you got from a discount bin at Target which is surprisingly comfortable. Many consecutive orgasms are starting to feel like a continuous, nonstop one—like you’ve lost control of yourself, like the only thing you are or want to be is a tight sleeve for Tom’s cock. 

“I can’t last much longer, honey.” By the sounds of it, it's a miracle he lasted this long. 

A strangled sound escapes you that’s almost a laugh. He’s been so good to you. So good it feels like a dream. It’s almost hard to remember, now, a time when you’d been certain he was such an asshole. All this flits through your brain in a matter of a second. “Cum for me, baby. I wanna feel you. Need you.” 

You watch with abject fascination through heavy lids, as his head bows, his body tenses, his grip on your hips tightening hard enough to leave bruises. How is it that you make this beautiful man fall to pieces? You’re afraid you would never tire of the sight. He spills inside you with a moan that shakes you to your soul, filling you with the hot rush of his seed. 

It’s funny, the ridiculous things that go through your mind after sex, floating in through the fuzzy white afterglow of umpteen orgasms and Tom’s solid weight resting on top of you. Such as: It’s a good thing your bath mat is machine washable, because you just made quite a mess. 

“I think,” Tom pants against you, “We’re going to miss the movie.” With this man in your arms, you cannot bring yourself to care. After the day you’ve had, this suits you perfectly.

“It’s fine,” you tell him breathlessly, pressing your lips to his cheek. “This is all I want anyway.”

He manages to sit up just a smidge, looking down at you with mischief in his sparkling brown eyes. Yet there is a vulnerability there too, underneath it all, and it squeezes your heart. You know he has a dangerous job, but the pure power and fury of those submachine guns earlier today ripping the store–and his old partner–to shreds probably had him feeling extra keenly the miracle of being alive. You knew that you yourself were a little surprised–but also numb, which maybe wasn’t the best, but it was how you cope.

“My naked body in your arms?” he ribs you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Either way.”

He lays a big kiss right in the middle of your forehead. “I think you like me.”

You look between the two of you, assessing the situation as if to say duh. But, then, feeling a little rogue, “nah, you must be hallucinating.” With a big grin on your face.

Reluctantly you part, Tom taking a deep breath as he leans back against the tub. “We might need another shower now?”

You smack his shoulder playfully–it’s all you can reach, from your position on the floor.

“I think this is where I’m sleeping,” you sigh, your head at a strange angle.

“Come on, sweetheart, I’ll make you something to eat.” 

Miraculously, you suddenly find the strength to sit up right. He helps pull you to your feet, and you pause for a luscious moment, your body pressed to his.

“Tom?”

“Yeah, baby?” he asks with his lips on your forehead.

“This…is the nicest thing that’s happened to me…maybe my whole life?”

Maybe you'll regret it later, but there’s just something about nearly dying that day that makes you want to say it.

He really surprises you with his answer. “Me too.”

You’re surprised because he is literally the whole package: cooks, gives massages, fucks like a nineteen year old on double shots of testosterone. You? You feel like you pale in comparison to him, so of course the lack of nicety in your life isn’t really surprising. In his? Astounding.

He teaches you how to cook pollo con arroz with the sparse ingredients in your kitchen. Behind you, helping you cut an onion, he leans down to press his mouth against your ear. “I’m gonna have to take you grocery shopping.”

“Are you going to be cooking for me with those groceries?” You ask, only half joking. 

“I’ll cook for you every single day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. You never have to touch an oven again if you don’t want to, baby.”

You know he’s probably exaggerating, but those words make your heart beat in Tom-sync. The organ no longer belongs to you, it belongs to the warm, tall, beautiful man behind you who’s making sure you don’t slice yourself with the veggie knife. And you’re not even sure how it really happened. 

“You don’t think I will?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Do you have time for that?” You reply, trying to keep your tone light and fun. 

“I’ll make time. I made the mistake of working too much, when I was married. I promise, I’m not going to do that with you.” 

“They give you a choice at the department?” you tease, still desperately trying to keep things light, even as your heart is constricting in your chest at the mention of his late wife.

“There’s only so much time in Complaints I can handle,” he fires back.

“So…how is all that going?” you ask. “Because they definitely looked at you at the station like you’re a legend.”

He raises his dark brows at that, endearingly shy all of a sudden. “I think you’re misinterpreting their feelings. They fuckin hate me.”

Sounds like Tom Ludlow doubts himself? Strange. You’re so used to his self-assured, cocky, confident side. “Sounds like you hate them?”

You feel him shrug. “I like three of them.”

That makes you chuckle. “Oh man.”

“You like everybody you work with?” He challenges, nipping at your earlobe playfully. 

You squeak, almost slip with the knife until he catches and steadies your hand. “Easy,” he murmurs, boiling your blood again. Your vagina, who was once all bets off for Tom, is now begging for a break despite the constant kiln of arousal kept hot by his presence. Hell, by the thought of him. But, damn, it had been a while before this insatiable beast grabbed you in his clutches, and if you’re this sore and overworked you know that he probably is, too. 

“Mostly,” you reply, swallowing the gathering saliva in your mouth. “I mean, nurses are bitches, but we’re too busy to really be catty or dramatic.” 

“Nurses are bitches? Nurses are the backbone of healthcare.”

It makes you giggle, the fact that he’s defending your own kind against you. “Well, thank you. Despite what people say about cops, I think that there are some good ones—for example, you.” 

He hmphs. “No, cops are fucking terrible.” 

“If you didn’t exist, I’d probably agree.” 

He turns you around and presses you against the lip of the counter, a wolf’s smile and shining, blown black eyes making your pulse thrum faster. “My ego can only take so much, baby.” 

“Careful,” you warn, “I have onion hands.” 

He grabs your hand up, takes your fingers and sucks them into his mouth, tongue tickling and warm and wet. You shift, try to pull back because it feels strange at first, and then so, so good, the skill of his mouth resonating in your clit. A tiny moan slips out of you and he smiles around your index, raising both eyebrows as if to say yeah, you like that?

“Tom,” you try, “I feel like if we have sex again my vagina will pack its bags and leave town.” 

He lets your pinky go with a little wet plop. “You just let me deal with her. I’ll convince her to stay…” 

Yes, Tom, whatever you say, Tom. You’re a little disgusted with yourself, but oh, not with him, not with Prince Dastardly Charming. “I am hungry, though,” you tell him, blinking wide and innocent—a great tactic, as you’ve come to learn. 

The food is delicious, and you have just enough rioja left to serve it with. You sit across from each other at your little dining table, his legs tangled with yours because the man can’t resist touching you for more than five minutes—which you secretly love. You honestly forget that there’s something you need to ask him until you’re halfway through and halfway full. The food is that good. If he ever decides to change careers, chef wouldn’t be a bad place to start. 

“You said that you worked too much? When you… were with your wife?” Maybe it’s invasive, but you add in, “you don’t have to answer that.” 

“No, it’s okay,” he assures, washing a mouthful of rice down with red wine. “I want to be open with you about it, if you want to hear it?” 

“Of course,” you nod, genuinely intrigued. 

“The last few years of our marriage, I got promoted. That meant less time at home and more time at the job. I was gone a lot—a lot more than I was present, and I didn’t notice she was pulling away until it was already too late.”

You wince, and take his hand. “I’m sorry.” 

He looks to your hand as if it can ground him, somehow. Keep him straight and steady. “Looking back, it was my fault. She’d beg me to stay some nights. But I was an asshole, I thought the work I was doing was important. After she passed I found her diary, it had a page in it where she wrote…” He pauses to take another drink. 

You rub over his thumb, trying to soothe. 

“It was one sentence. Over and over again. Please come home, Tom.” 

You can’t help the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. Maybe that’s why he’s so persistent, so determined to make you his—to show you he’s worth something. Because he couldn’t do it for her. 

“Oh, honey…”

“So I was wrong. There will always be more crime to fight. More shit to shovel. It’s not a war we’ll ever win. But there was only one of her, and I…fucked up. I don’t even blame her for stepping out on me. I wanted to punish the shitbag who treated her that way, but I was the shitbag who left her alone in the first place.”

“Tom…” You squeeze his hand. “You made a mistake. But you couldn’t have known.”

“I should have known. I’m a nosy motherfucker, if you haven’t noticed.”

This makes you smile a little, despite the subject at hand. “It’s possible I picked that up about you.”

With his hair in his eyes he pays you a winsome smile that about breaks your heart. “C’mere,” he says, orders, tugging on your hand.

For once in a mood to obey, you let him pull you into his lap. It’s becoming your favorite seat. With his strong arms wrapped around you, you feel as though nothing bad can touch you. He snuggles into the bend of your neck, just holding you, and for the millionth time you think to yourself that you are just utterly doomed. “If I get caught up in a case and you need me, baby, promise me you’ll just tell me, alright? I’d drop everything for you.” 

Once again, the tears well in your eyes. Fuck if you don’t believe him too. “Ok.” It’s all you can get out, past the scratchy lump of emotion lodged in your throat like a sea urchin.

You watch some mindless television together, until you decide you are both exhausted. You brush your teeth and change into your favorite age-softened nightgown–only for Tom to pull it right back over your head with a smile that is somehow both roguish and tender. “No need for that,” he tells you, walking you backwards until your knees hit the bed.

“Tom…” you plead, unable to stop your sleepy giggle as he kisses the insides of your thighs. “I was serious…”

“Shhh,” he says, smirking up at you with his cheek resting on the warm pillow of your thigh. “Kitty and I have to have a little chat.” 

“Kitty says she’s tired,” you whine, your breath hitching as his lips travel higher. 

“But I’ll be so gentle.” His soft lips touch your flesh so close to your aching apex, and your vagina is ready to tell you to fuck off, so she and Ludlow can have their talk. You’re really not sure how this is your life right now. Your love life went from dry as the desert to this–this beautiful man, between your legs, and in your kitchen, and if you’re really up for some brutal self-reflection:in your heart.

He has a little bit of stubble on his face this time; you can really feel it as he nuzzles into the plump top of your pussy. You press him back, choking on saliva, thighs clamping around him in an attempt to protect the sensitive flesh. “Oh God,” you murmur, head thrown back against the pillows. 

“Sorry, baby.” He kisses the top of your slit where your clit peeks out, holds your hips from spasming, from probably giving him a minor concussion. “It’s hard.” A long lick up your labia, generous with saliva and feathery gentle. “To resist my gorgeous pussy.”

Here you are, legs hanging off the end of the bed, Tom Ludlow kneeling by your feet and licking your puffy cunt, calling you his again, and you’re not even arguing. No protest whatsoever. You might as well be handing your meaty little heart—and clit—over on a silver platter, garnished with spring onion and lemon.

You think, maybe, you can stand this method of cunnilingus a little better. But you’re wrong. The slow, torturous tease of his wet mouth inching its way into your folds, purposefully avoiding the yearning bulb at the very center of your pleasure makes you beg for that hungry devourer you once knew. You can tell he’s holding back by the low groans of agony vibrating your skin, the tensing of his arms so tight on your malleable thighs and hips, indents and bruises as testament to his resolve. 

While he exercises self control, he makes sure you do, too—securing you into the mattress with his grip, conjuring the most hellish ache in your cunt and then pinning it in place, keeping you right there, whining and soaked and finally begging him for more despite all the initial, useless resistance. 

He keeps you on the edge of his careful tongue for a little while—a lot longer than your patience can tolerate. Instead of trying to squirm away now, you’re pressing into him, offering yourself up for just a little bit longer of that wicked suck-lick-repeat that makes your vision gooey around the edges. “Please, Tom.” You want to beg pretty, but it comes out desperate and feral, the opposite of feminine and sweet, your teeth clenched so hard it makes your jaw ache. 

He surfaces from the deep pool of your arousal. “Look at me.” 

You do, and it’s a mistake. Because when you catch his black, heavy eyes, he’s giving you a long lick that feels like it’s breaking your toes instead of merely curling them, and the shiny, wet, hedonist’s smile is enough to take you right to the edge and leave you there. Screaming and thrashing. 

“Baby, baby,” he calls, soothing you by petting your twitching, sweaty skin—fuck, you are going to need another shower. “You wanna cum?”

“Uh-huh.” Your eager nod makes him chuckle. 

“Say you’re mine, greedy girl.” 

Dirty cheating bastard. The glare you give gets sucked right back out of you, through your pulsing clit, into his mouth. He presses two fingers just inside you, and you growl at him, proving that you are, indeed, more like that cute chihuahua than you want to admit.

“That’s adorable,” he muses, stretching you open a little more. “C’mon, tell me.” 

“That’s not fair,” you protest, trying to push down onto his hand, swallow him up. 

He over exaggerates a sigh, breath cooling over your fiery flesh. “That’s alright, I have all night.” 

Another strangled sound escapes you, your eyes dewy with pure frustration. Is it not enough, that he clearly holds you in the palm of his hand? Do you really have to say it out loud?

“I’m going to get you back for this,” you pant, straining for just a little more friction in just the right spot. 

This only seems to delight him, of course. “Oh, I hope so.” 

“Tom, Tom, Tom,” you call softly, trying a different tone, “please fuck me.” 

“I am fucking you,” he says, laving at your clit and getting it nice and warm and soaked again.

“No,” you hiss. “Want your—oh. Want your cock inside me, please. Want you to-ah-uh cum inside me.” 

You must drive a hard bargain, or he just can’t take it anymore. Judging by the sight of his big, beautiful cock, leaking and turgid, it’s the latter. You don’t have enough sense to be suspicious of why he’s letting you win so easily while he’s fucking your permanent indent into the mattress, sucking the nape of your neck between his teeth.  

He gently fists his hand into your hair, sends your hips pushing into him. “That hurt, baby?” He asks, grunting with the force of his thrusts. 

“Uh uh,” you say, biting into the skin of your arm while a thickened, wonderful release builds in your belly, soothes the stretching ache that goes hand in hand with his girth. “Feels good.” 

He tugs a little, winding your hair around his fingers, digging into your scalp and mimicking the rub of his cock on your gspot. That’s enough to send you spiraling, falling down the rabbit hole, spasming and gushing around him with no before indications. 

“That was unexpected,” he tells you, trying to laugh around a groan. “The hair, huh?” 

You try to tell him to shut up, but between the muffling comforter and the increased speed of his taut hips, it comes out jumbled and messy, a praising moan instead of a witty insult. Then, you realize, he’s not letting you win—you can’t win, not with him. Whether it be with your fragile heart or your overworked cunt, you’ll lose in the end. You just know it. 

He keeps a warm, grounding hand pressed to your scalp while he spills inside you, as deep as he can go, cursing and twitching. It makes you giggle, how he lays his full weight on you and then thinks better of it and rolls over to nuzzle by your side, instead. 

“This is good,” you tell him, sleepily kissing his bicep. 

He hums in agreement, setting the back of his hand on your shoulder blade, and then proceeding to adorably and immediately fall asleep. You happily join him after a wobbly trip to the bathroom.

[storm-driver]

hi, i have feelings about cartoon nostalgia and the audience perception of them 20 years on

this is gonna read hyper-specific, but bear with me

i refuse to credit butch hartman for the way danny phantom came out during it's first two seasons, at least outside of the initial pitch and the idea of the protagonist having white hair. i know the majority of enthusiasts for this show are more than aware of hartman's antics at this point. these anctics, i won't get into. other people are far more suited to explain that stuff vs me, a random guy on the internet. but there's very specific topics that i don't often see get brought up in detail, like the production and staff behind this show.

i'll get into it below the cut so as not to clutter your dashboard. but if you're not familiar with the actual production history of danny phantom, this might be interesting to read.

it's common knowledge these days that stephen silver is the one who developed the design for danny based on hartman's original rough sketches. the similarity between each drawing is apparent, but you can see clear as day which design was gonna be more apt for animation and overall audience allure back in 2003.

he also did character designs for hartman's other poster child, Fairly Oddparents. the trend is similar, though far from a huge concern. character design overhauls happen all the time in media production. designs might be too complicated for animation, so they get stripped down. or maybe things aren't complex enough and more nuance needs to be added. that's normal stuff, and i am not dunking on hartman for not nailing danny's design right out the gate. i'm pointing this out in case you've ever looked at butch hartman's recent work and wondered "how are these done by the same artist?"

the answer is they weren't. hartman had to adapt to stephen silver's conceptual designs in order to work on the storyboards. take from that what you will.

onto the actual writing.

butch barely wrote a single episode for this show's first two seasons.

steve marmel helped write at least 28 episodes of the original two seasons, with writers like sib ventress and marty isenberg bringing a good amount of episodes to the table, as well.

butch hartman is credited primarily for directing and storyboarding this show. the episode pitch and writing was by other people almost entirely. the ONLY episodes in the first two seasons that hartman is credited with having written are mystery meat, one of a kind and splitting images. and he's credited with co-writing these episodes alongside steve marmel and mark banker. ie, he did not write these episodes on his own. and allegedly, butch hartman had a tendency to be credited as a writer for an episode, even if he only wrote a few lines of dialogue. again, take from that what you will.

past that in season 3, he wrote infinite realms, torrent of terror, forever phantom, urban jungle, and ofc, phantom planet. which a lot of people know, these episodes in particular weren't the most enjoyable, nor was the overall direction of them very good.

a director's job is to make sure that the overall tone, feel, and message of the show is being kept consistent with intent. that means meeting with producers, who are the ones managing the, y'know, producing part of the whole project. it may sound like the director is the one heading the project if it's their job to keep things in check. which, i will not deny, hartman must've put in a good deal of work to make the show come out as well as it did.

but pile that with some of the off things per episode. the mean-spirited way that characters tend to be taught lessons, the voice direction getting a drastic change in season 3 (you can hear it explicitly with david kaufman suddenly going for higher pitches instead of the usual one he's done so far). there's really only one consistent motif in the entire show's OST. which isn't a bash against the music producer. it's a concern that the director of the show never asked him to change things up, and ONLY stuck to this one motif.

to briefly touch on the mean-spirited thing. there's multiple instances in the show where danny or someone else is seen fighting back against whatever has given them trouble, or they're taking matters into their own hands to ensure they won't be hurt ahead of time. and repeatedly, the show likes to kick these characters back down for trying to stand up. it's a trend in all of butch hartman's shows, and it's treated more like comedy than anything else. it's up to audience perception on how to view it. but for me personally, it starts to feel like an overused gag and turns into something more malevolent after seeing it overused almost every single episode.

okay besides that, i actually wanna look at specific examples of episodes that steve marmel wrote for. again, this is the guy who's more or less responsible for the show's serialization.

the complete list of episodes is as follows:

Mystery Meat, Parental Bonding, One of a Kind, Attack of the Killer Garage Sale, Splitting Images, What You Want, Bitter Reunions, Prisoners of Love, My Brother's Keeper, Shades of Gray, Fanning the Flames, Teacher of the Year, Fright Night, 13(Thirteen), Public Enemies, Memory Blank, Reign Storm, The Ultimate Enemy, The Fright Before Christmas, Secret Weapons, Flirting with Disaster, Micro Management , Kindred Spirits, and Reality Trip.

multiple episodes listed here are from the first season, which a lot of people consider the show's best. and of the handful listed for season 2, he wrote all of the hour-long specials.

i would be here for hours talking about how steve marmel tackles all of these characters and concepts significantly better than hartman does in season 3. but that's a topic best praised elsewhere. point is, if you watched any of these episodes and thought to yourself "wow, that was actually kinda clever," steve marmel is more or less the guy responsible.

butch hartman was in charge of direction, but that does not give him exclusive credit for every single line of dialogue or plot beat. there could be a LOT we just don't know because people on production staff don't want to comment. but the writing consistency taking a dive off the board by season 3, which is the same season that steve marmel departed from the project due to conflicting direction in the story? you might deduce that butch hartman was not the prized writer and artist behind this otherwise beloved cartoon.

to dredge up an easier-to-tackle target, season 3.

my criticisms are 18-year old echoes at this point, you've heard them all. from otherwise pointless episodes that don't develop the characters or world, to completely out-of-touch writing (looking at you, phantom planet) that juxtaposes the characters with everything we've been told about them so far. it became a slog of a season that didn't have any build-up to it's finale. the occasional gem of an episode like frightmare helped in some aspects. or the promise for something later with d-stabilized. but it all gets swept under the rug thanks to a rushed finale with poor build-up, bad writing direction for the characters, and most importantly, an unlasting effect on the viewer. (or a negative lasting effect, which is arguably worse)

for a season that knew it was on its last leg before inevitably needing to give up, there's seldom few episodes dedicated to advancing an overall narrative, and thus give a slimmer of hope for a satisfying conclusion. instead, the show goes all in with villain-of-the-week stories, and even the returning villains are hardly taken seriously or given more to do besides just being there.

of course, we know the reason steve marmel had left the project was because hartman wanted the show not to taken a more story-focused drive. it almost starts to feel like spite that kept the show so horribly grounded, letting it become stagnant before eventually being forgettable.

all this is in service of letting people know, it really wasn't butch hartman that made the show, not alone. death of the author and all that nonsense aside, he pitched the concept. and it takes a lot of love and dedication to make a concept something you can physically see and adore. don't let him swath in all the credit. recognize the others who made the work you can still enjoy.

[momtaku]

Excerpts from Shingeki Fly

I finally had time today to look closely at my copy of Shingeki Fly. I used my cell phone to translate bits of the interviews, so mileage may vary, but I am fairly confident the gist is more or less correct.

About the Shingeki Fly Color Art Book

Since Isayama prides himself on not being an excellent artist, he wanted the color art book to highlight the work Mr. Nakao, his colorist since the beginning of the series.

I really like this reflection regarding Mr. Nakao on his first chapter of Attack on Titan:

This is the first color manuscript that a presumptuous amateur, a newcomer who doesn't really know how to hold a pen left or right. The composition, panel layout, and everything else is terrible, but the way you colored it so nicely made me think that maybe I can make a living as a manga artist, and that manga doesn't have to be created by one person alone. I remember feeling hopeful that I would be able to participate in the unknown series that was about to begin.

Isayama's experience at Anime NYC in January 2022:

Isayama talks about how happy he was to visit Manhattan. Because he can't be normal for two seconds, he mentions that seeing the skyscrapers at night reminded him of the 1998 GODZILLA movie.

He also talks about the fan panel. My translation app says something like this: By actually seeing the crowd I was able to realize that Attack on Titan,'' which I had been drawing while holed up in my room in Tokyo, was connected to people far away from Japan and overseas. I was very happy to be able to see each fan's face and think, ``How happy are they?''

(I was able to attend that fan panel in person so I can attest how emotional he was by seeing us all there.)

Isayama's experience at Anglouleme in France in January 2023:

Being in France made him feel very far away from Japan because the city and architecture were so different from what he was used to. He described walking on the streets by the Eiffel tower in the middle of the night as thrilling.

While he set the landscape of Attack on Titan as French, German and Italian architecture, he understands now it was all from his Japanese perspective. Seeing the city is person was completely different from what he'd imagined.

How it felt drawing Levi after such a long time

Here is something I didn't know. At first Isayama was going to write a prequel set 100 years before the main story, but after meeting the fans in France he realized the idea of a one shot was to make them happy. Instead of an original idea, he settled the tea cup story, which is something he'd intended to write but had never had the chance.

He said is was surprisingly easy to draw Levi again after such a long break. The only thing he really had to think about is what Levi would sound like as a 10 year old.

"Bad Boy" was also his first time drawing manga on an iPad. Because he wasn't used to it, he had three assistants helping him. I really want a good translation of this bit because it seems funny. He mentions something about how what should've been digital remote work was more of an analog training camp. He said is was fun to reminisce about his "war era" when he would work while chatting with his assistants about trivial matters.

[thornswoggled]

yori is fumiki and heres why: my manifesto

or: wait, we werent all on the same page about this?

i should have written this when i first read chapter 98, but im only getting around to it now. this is less me trying to convince you, the reader, and more hoarding all my collected thoughts on why yori is absolutely fumiki, if its a red herring its a silly one, and if he isnt or if its left ambiguous forever i will eat crow. here we go:

before i start let me say most of my evidence is the way yamazaki frames him visually rather than solid "proof." comics are an artform, theres a reason things get framed the way they do, and her artistic choices in ch 98 (i feel) are meant to serve as a big blinking neon light that says "you should be feeling this way about xyz right now"

iic, there were rumblings of "the young auditor" being fumiki as far back as his introduction in ch 51 due to to his unique ability:

which is essentially a refined version of fumikis innate ability to keep fae away. we know yori is part of a "family business," and it seems appropriate that with the proper training, he would be able to freeze fae in their tracks rather than simply ward them off

unfortunately this is where "evidence" ends and "vibes" begin

chapter 51 didnt get adapted into what was otherwise a pretty faithful adaptation in season 2, and i understand why - theres a lot going on, and this chapter is fairly out of left field. but theres one other quip that got left out of season 2:

this is a one-off thought that wouldnt have been difficult to include in the anime. imo, i believe this line from ch 62 didnt get animated because we hadnt met fumiki yet like we did in the manga. now, onto more recent chapters... (under a read more because this is going to get pretty long)

chise and yoris first meeting is framed in a very purposeful way. in chapter 98, elias is preoccupied with ousting all the outsiders so that he and chise can be alone, stuck on the idea that "christmas is for family only:"

and three pages later, who do we meet?

im really struck by the way chise and yori are drawn together here. personally, i dont read this as "chise is meeting a new unimportant side character," this is "the strings of fate have pulled us miraculously back together again"

waiter! waiter! can i get an order of drifting sakura petals and sparkles with this panel? am i waxing poetic here or do you see it? the way theres no background drawn here, no other characters, even in later pages when we know elias is standing right behind chise, he doesnt get included in frame so that its just the two of them:

while im at it, can we appreciate how theyre wearing the same outfit? black pants and a hip-length dark coat/sweater with oversized pockets, a collar, and six left-sided buttons. yoris dark gloves also evoke chises cursed arm here but i dont want to risk looking like a maniac any more than i already do. i mean... dude, look at them, theyre matching

speaking of matching, lets pop back to 51 for a sec

both yori and chise have canine familiars! actually, it looks like yori might have multiple - look at all those pokeballs i mean bamboo tubes in his coat. if my memory serves, we didnt know yori was japanese at this point, but everyone assumed so because of the appearance of this familiar... which was another log on the "this might be fumiki" fire

fun fact: this little dude is almost certainly a kuda-kitsune, which were said to be kept in tubes and summoned by a soothsayer, who could use it to perform curses, or tell the past and future

and the drama with which we find out his "name":

"i bet you were expecting me to say fumiki, huh. good luck im not giving you that this early you have to work for it." as far as aliases go, "ri" could be derived from "hatori," but neither of the kanji in "fumiki" can be read as "yo," so its probably just random

after yori leaves, we get another repetition of "christmas is for family," which at this point feels like yamazaki is leading us to water and dunking our head in it:

i think its awfully convenient that ruth was absent for chises exchange with yori. do you think he would have been able to smell that theyre related? or whiffed the kuda-kitsune in his coat?

right after this, too, we get this line from elias which i have been thinking about a lot:

theres a few different ways this could be read, so im not married to any one interpretation, but it could be foreshadowing "if chise decides to pursue a relationship with her estranged family, what will i do then?" as gabriella would say, "i hate to be a third wheel"

given what we have seen of yoris aloof personality, i have to imagine there will be drama if/when the reveal is made. sadly i can picture him actually pushing chise away if she tries to reestablish a relationship with him

now! that is pretty much where my thoughts end, but i do want to share questions/doubts i have:

if yori read all of simons reports to determine he was an unfit observer, there is no way he doesnt know chises full name. i wonder whether he had any reaction to it? he may assume that its just a coincidence. i briefly wondered if the hatori name was an invention by yuuki, until i remembered that the family chise stays with in the OVA also has the same name. unless yuuki was adopted by another family like seth...? dont mind me, im going pepe silvia mode over here

have i mentioned i talked about yuuki before in another theory post? take it with a grain of salt, i already got proven wrong on one front now that jasper has been introduced

will yuuki be reintroduced if fumiki is? i desperately want chise to get that closure, but this scene from ch 42 has a sense of finality to it, a sort of "you will never get to resolve things with your father or see his side of things" stank:

... actually, now that ive mentioned the kuda-kitsune, can we look at this thing again?

another word for the kuda-kitsune is "izuna," which is read in modern japanese as "weasel." could the critter whos watching yuuki here come from the same place as yoris familiars? yuuki leaves his family immediately after this - getting summoned maybe?

okay, okay, let me stop myself here before i start looking like im ranting and raving. can we talk about the mail, please, mac? ive been dying to talk about the mail with you all day, ok? "pepe silvia," this name keeps coming up over and over again. every day pepe's mail is getting sent back to me. pepe silvia! pepe silvia! i look in the mail, and this whole box is pepe silvia!

if youre a fence-sitter, what are your thoughts? do you think we just dont have enough evidence yet? inquiring minds want to know

[alanaartdream]

Ok it’s new day and I have better lighting and more drawings for my Fairy Timmy with Jimmy Timmy power hour Nicktoons unite and now with new drawings fairly odd parents a new wish added to the mix (( also you can ask questions about my ideas if you want; don’t mind getting distracted from stress of working food services for a hospital asking about my

Drawings au ideas))

I was trying out these staedtler high lighters today ( normally I rather use watercolour pencils and markers but sometimes if I’m feeling lazy or a bit tried out I just like to grab my little pencil case and sketch while in bed before I start the day;; but some of my high lighters lids popped off or they just started to dry up so had to find something to replace some of the ones that dry out;; I might look into getting some watercolours markers/pens in the future to try that out )

Ok now onto my fairy Timmy with nicktoons unite gang now I believe when fairy Timmy grows up he’ll be helping with the Da Rules but also be a fairy Lawyer and Felicity would besides her other fairy jobs (she helps artists/ writers and people who create stuff to get inspiration for their creations and get them out of artists/ writers blocks as well as help cats find humans who will give them forever homes but she also keeps track of all of fairyworld records and being as lawyers always need to check the records for their cases it makes cents they become work friends) also see Cupid showing up complaining to Timmy of how he can’t find get Felicity to fall in love with anyone even though he’s been trying and Timmy and Jimmy have to remind him

She’s asexual/ demisexual so she’s not the type to fall in love like straights would do witch just has him huffing away while hazel who just popped into with Wanda cosmo and peri to laugh remembering how much Cupid gave her troubles with her parents (( apparently she made a wish to meet Timmy after Peri Wanda and cosmo ended up talking about him and Timmy was hanging out in Jimmy’s lab going over a tricky problem that seemed to happen with the Da Rules books and being how smart Jimmy is was getting some advice with that tricky book’s rules))

Jimmy not a fan of kids in his lab so keeping an eye on her while Hazel meeting Fairy Timmy and Peri is explaining how Timmy helps out the Nicktoons unite gang when he’s not busy with his fairy work in fairy world and if you want to check out other universes and if you want to check out other universes you have to get felicity or Timmy to check in with Jimmy Neutron who’s one of the leading professors on universes travel witch is when Hazel truly gets a good look at Jimmy & is surprised to learn he’s human and not a fairy witch is when Timmy has to quickly poof in felicity to explain with records/ paperwork that Jimmy; the Nicktoons unite gang along with Timmy have saved fairy world and all of the universes so often that to keep all the universes safe it’s better that they know fairies exist and have signed the right papers to be allowed to know about fairies and fairy world (heck fairy world ended up giving Jimmy Danny and their friends metals for helping them soo much there was a huge party and everything all the Nicktoons untie gang were invited and given metals for the occasion)

(( if you want to add Dev into this could have it he complains how come Jimmy & Danny are allowed into fairyworld later on when Jimmy and Danny are over for check over involving ghost rules in the Da Rules book and peri looking worn out at dev’s antics while Danny and Jimmy give the kid annoyed looks and Timmy’s trying to comfort Peri saying looks like you got remy like kid as his first godkid

Also could see later on when Dev ended working with Anti fairies Timmy was at Jimmy’s lab and was doing his best to save Timmy from magical back up and get Timmy back to fairyworld along with Danny’s help and they ended up up helping Hazel out in saving fairy world I could see Jimmy wanting to rip Dev’s dad for what nearly happened to Timmy but Jimmy had managed to keep from happening with Hazel’s help; Danny had to hold Jimmy back while Timmy had to get his lawyer side up and ask peri about how he wanted to handle this case with Dev

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 14/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

                He’s working in a restaurant in Rome, helping one of Leandro’s friends and learning about the delicacies of Italian desserts when he hears raised voices from the restaurant. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, knows better when they’re on a time crunch of morning preparation and some of these desserts need to sit for at least eight hours before they’ll be able to be served. Then the door to the kitchen is opening and Leandro is there, and he’s not looking too happy about it.

                “Leandro, what are you doing here?” Bradley asks, immediately holding his arms open to embrace him. He likes the tactile nature of the Italians, he gets hugged fairly often and he’s noticed he’s started picking up the way they talk, hands gesturing to add emphasis to whatever it is he’s saying.

                “I’m here to judge a silly competition,” Leandro mutters, and he’s scrubbing his hands in the sink and rolling his sleeves up and Bradley grins, knows he’s about to be shown up yet again by Leandro’s skill in the kitchen. That said;

                “Uh, which competition?”

                “Some cooking show. They asked me to be a guest judge.”

                “Uh. Okay.”

                “You’re coming with me. Keep me from getting bored. Also I want to know what you think.”

                “About a cooking show?”

                “No. The food. If I must suffer overcooked pasta or cold filling in some pasta ripiena and suffer then you can come and suffer with me…”

                Bradley shakes his head and laughs, but Leandro helps him finish all the prep and he doesn’t miss the wide eyes that the other two sous chefs are giving him, although Leandro is talking to them and making conversation happily.

                Then Bradley isn’t sure what is happening exactly, but he’s going with Leandro, his presence on set isn’t a surprise. He’s shoved into a chair for makeup and he’s pretty sure that a lot of the crew around assume he’s Italian, because the makeup artist is muttering about how the scars on his face are going to be a bitch to try and cover up. He doesn’t want them covered up, has gotten used to seeing them and feeling the ridges of harder tissue under his fingers when he shaves. But he keeps his mouth shut and eyes open.

                He’s being called protetto by Leandro, and he knows that means protégé and he feels a little thrill of pride because he can tell that Leandro is proud to call him that, believes that Bradley can be as good as him. The producer and director are not Italian and have hired translators, and Bradley isn’t quite sure what the point of the competition is. Then he learns. A timed challenge; an hour to make fresh pasta and accompanying sauce from scratch. It’s a tall order even for someone like Leandro who Bradley considers an expert after all the exposure he’s had now. It doesn’t surprise him anymore when he enters a kitchen of yet another friend of Leandro’s and they hand Bradley the job of making the pasta. He’s learnt from Leandro, and his mother, and clearly he isn’t the only one who thinks Leandro is very good at pasta.

                The competition does not go well. There is indeed cold fillings and overcooked pasta, and some bonus undercooked pasta as well for variation. Some of the flavors simply do not complement each other and Leandro asks him his opinion each time, asking probing questions which make him consider the depth of flavor of fillings and texture of sauces. When he learns that whoever cooked the two worst dishes will be out of the competition he wonders if whoever is running the show included people who just can’t cook.

                He’s a little shocked as he watches Leandro give feedback. He has never held back with criticism, for as long as Bradley has known him, but Bradley also knows he is encouraging and supportive. Neither of those attributes are on show right now as rips shreds off the show participants and he’s very glad the cameras are no longer on him.

                “Leonardo can cook better Italian food and he’s not even Italian…”

                “You’re not?” the woman beside him asks, her arms folded and gaze assessing.

                “No. I’m American.”

…            …            …

                “Do you enjoy cooking?” Bradley asks as he watches Jake move around the kitchen, opening up pretty much every cupboard and draw before he finds a pan he’s apparently satisfied with. He's already offered his help and been told very firmly to sit down and look pretty.

                “Clearly not as much as you do. But I was not allowed to move out of home unable to feed myself.”

                “But the Navy feeds you now.”

                “Not when I’m on leave. And my sisters, all of them, would shoot me dead if I ever expected any of them to cook for me,” Jake says with a shudder.

                “Yeah? So you do it because you have to huh?”

                “Of course. Like doing washing or brushing my teeth. Huh. I wonder if dentists enjoy brushing their teeth like you enjoy cooking enough to make it your job…”

                “Well, I didn’t mean for it to become my career, I kind of fell into it.”

                “But you’re still there, because you love it right?”

                “Yeah. I do.”

                “So tell me why… if you can.”

                “Of course I can,” Bradley scoffs. He’s been asked this question multiple times, and if Jake knew exactly who he was, or had any knowledge, then he’d likely already know the answer. Except how can he boil it down into something truly solid. “Basically… So… eating is often a communal thing, right?”

                “Right,” Jake agrees.

                “And food is often part of so many celebrations and it brings people together, even when there is a language barrier, food can… serve as that bridge. I enjoy cooking for people, being a part of so many people’s lives without actually being there or knowing them. Like special anniversaries and birthdays… I like being part of those things in some way. Adding to it for those people and making it better. Hopefully. Cooking for my family is a whole other level of enjoyment. But in my restaurant? Uh. The restaurant where I work,” he amends. “I was taught that the dining experience begins from the moment someone steps inside the restaurant. The ambience, the look of the people and room, the smell and sound… everything can add or subtract from the dining experience. I want to be the best at giving that experience.”

                “The best huh?”

                “One of the best.”

                “So who trained you? Did you go to some fancy cooking school?”

                “It would a culinary school and you know that and… you’re just winding me up,” Bradley realizes, responding to Jake’s teasing grin. “And no, I didn’t go to a culinary school. Leandro, my… uh, I guess you could call him my Italian father? Anyway, he’s actually a pretty well-known chef in Italy. He taught me everything he knew, and then he sent me around all sorts of places to friends of his. People he’d met in culinary school and told them that they needed to knock me into shape and teach me their specialties in exchange for me working for them…”

                “Huh. So you’ve always travelled a lot then huh?”

                “Yeah. And I enjoy it almost as much as I enjoy cooking.”

                Jake’s smile is soft and sweet Bradley leans over the bench for a kiss.

…            …            …

                Now that he’s putting the oven baked fries and burgers onto plates he feels a little self-conscious, but he shakes it off. Leo isn’t a snob, he knows that much at least. Still.

                “Sorry it’s not anything fancy…”

                “You made me food, I’m sure it’s going to be delicious. Time and place for fancy, and it is not every night.”

                “Yeah? That your life philosophy is it?”

                “No,” Leo says, but he’s starting to grin about something. “Might be my philosophy for sex though…”

                “Going to share with the class?” Jake asks, hooking his ankle around Leo’s and picking up his burger. Leo has already put the sauce on the table, alongside glasses of water and bottles of beer and he could totally get used to this.

                “Well… you know. I’ve eaten at a lot of restaurants, tried a lot of different… foods.”

                “Definitely more than me,” Jake says, and he hopes that Leo gets that he’s talking about literal food and sex right now. While being gay in the Navy might not be as bad as it once was, it’s still not… easy.

                “So sometimes I want to take my time. Build up the anticipation. Look up the menu online and think about all the different things I could try. Maybe go for a whole three course meal, or maybe just one course. Depends on the amount of time I have right?” Leo asks, and his eyes are hooded and dark as he looks at Jake and he smirks, because yeah, okay, he hadn’t ever thought of food as potentially sexy before, other than maybe licking chocolate off someone… But he likes where Leo is taking this.

                “And the thing is, with the same person, I get to try everything I want to, everything that’s on the menu. I can keep going back over and over again, because sure, I have a favorite dish, but there are all these other options as well and I can really mix it up…”

                He pauses then, takes a drink of his beer, eyes not leaving Jake’s, and Jake watches as his throat works as he swallows. He shifts a little in his chair, his cock definitely taking an interest and he can’t believe how hard he gets for Leo.

                “So I’m your all-you-can-eat buffet then?”

                Leo throws his head back then and laughs.

FIFTEEN

[emry-stars-art]

I didnt mean to rediscover how much I like brainstorming and world building stuff but here we are - this time it’s (mostly) pirate Neil and shark Andrew flavored!

@tell-me-your-vision had some very good tags on the last post like this so of course I started thinking harder about it lol, you all know by now that the best way to get me to draw more is to leave ideas and questions in your tags 😘 it’s very interesting figuring out what parts I want to be drawn directly from the source animal and what I want to have artistic liberty with! Sometimes you just gotta say “it’s this way because I decided it is” and offer no more explanation, not even to yourself.

That being said. If the snippet interested you, find more of the unfinished scene here :D (and if you want to leave a comment… 👀)

I don’t know how clear this image is going to end up being, so here’s the important notes typed up:

Does [Andrew’s] missing fin cause maneuverability problems? Yep. Fins keep the body stable and streamlined in the water. No fin/half detached fins means Andrew spends a lot more energy to be equally as efficient while swimming. (That’s part of why he had more upper body strength than most mers.)

Does jelly Neil feel pain like humans? Not at all. Pain vs nociception - the detection of averse stimulus. So Neil can sense and respond to ‘painful’ stimuli, and he does feel some pain like a person would in his upper half, but it’s mostly just a sensation that he responds to. (This is dangerous. Less pain means he doesn’t realize how dire a situation may be.)

A second eyelid - like a crocodile/etc; a clear secondary eyelid that closes horizontally beneath the primary eyelid, developed to keep the eye safe and clear underwater. Why jelly Neil rarely ‘actually’ blinks

Pirate Neil’s prosthesis. Most of it is always hidden under clothes; it’s made of leather, copper, rubber, and cumaru wood. It was given to him by Stuart as soon as the man found out that Neil had lost his leg, and Stuart had it custom made through his vast connections. At one point in the timeline, Neil angrily takes it off to show a wary and lashing-out sharkDrew that he has also once been on the wrong end of a ‘whaler’s’ knife.

The tiny two panel comic in the bottom right corner: pirate Neil says “stop trying to stab me in the leg” while sharkDrew was fairly certain he just took out this pirate’s kneecap with his sharp rock

The snippet:

“And it was terrified. It’s second eyelids fluttered, it’s eyes were hazy. It held the rough stone ready in case Neil tried to get close again. It still wasn’t breathing right. It was still bleeding.

“Okay,” Neil said softly. He held his own hands out a little to the side. “I’m not going to hurt you more.”

The shark snarled, though it’s mouth never opened.

“I didn’t hurt you in the first place. They’re still finning mers?”

Neil tried to step in, slowly, and was met with another vicious swing. He was ready this time, avoiding the sharp stone neatly.

“Hey, thing. Keep moving like that and you’ll bleed to death.”

Another attempt, and another swing. Neil looked at the place it’s fin had been, now a horrible, gaping wound on its back. He could see the meat beneath the blood. If he didn’t help soon, the shark would go into shock, if not simply die here on the rocks.

“Do you even realize what’s at stake for you?”