#this one is just massive in terms of body haha

[avanii]

Typhlosion is finished! All handmade with super soft faux furs and minky details; featuring hand-painted safety eyes, fangs and eyewhites of felt, magnets in each of the red spots (to attach a fiery collar to once I make one), lots of plastic beans in the belly, and extensive thread sculpting on the face and paws.

He measures 65 cm (25,6 inch) from nose to bum and gives great hugs! I’m really happy with how he came out 😄 Also featuring Quilava, whom I made early this year.

See how I made him here

[bizbat]

When They're In Love - Jason Todd - 2

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut.

~ You can find part one of these hcs here, and part three here.

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ Thank you to @the-best-of-the-myrmidona for requesting more When They're In Love Headcanons for Jason Todd!

~ SFW ~

He likes to sit with his head between your legs, in any context.

He likes when you massage his scalp with your legs dangling over his broad shoulders.

He loves it when you wear his clothes.

His heart always stops for a moment when he sees you come out of the shower, drying your hair with a towel, dressed in one of his shirts that just barely reaches down to your thighs, and rises as you reach up to take care of your wet hair.

Loves seeing your thighs.

He gives real "victorian man seeing an ankle" energy.

He loves feeling you against him.

He needs to feel your skin or your body pressing against his or he will have a bad day.

I feel like he always smells good, even if he doesn't smell good, yk?

Like even when he comes home smelling like blood, smoke, and gasoline, his natural musk probably still stands out.

Always catches him off guard when you wanna hug him before he showers.

He can't help but laugh when you bury your face into his chest to inhale more of his scent.

He likes it when you play with his hair, but also likes to play in yours.

Straight, wavy, curly, coiled, long, short, shaved.

He don't care.

Lay on his chest and let him play with your hair, now!

I think he can cook, but that he doesn't know a lot of recipes. He reads a lot of cookbooks though, so he always wants to try something new with you.

I think he always wants to impress you, but he wants to be lowkey abt it.

First time you come over his place, he scrubs every single square inch till it sparkles, but he'll throw a shirt over the couch, or leave out a plate, or something, so he can be all "Sorry about the mess, haha".

Like a loser smh.

I think he'd ask Alfred for a recipe that will be impressive, but not too hard or complicated.

I didn't include it in the last set of hcs, but im putting it here.

Jason would absolutely want to rescue a pet with you, I'm thinking either a massive black dog, or an old cat that has no teeth and has outlived three owners.

Something that needs love and hasn't been given it.

But, I also think he'd put it off bc he wants to be able to give it his full attention.

If he found the right ball of fur and teeth though, I think he might be compelled to take it home with him.

He loves to take naps. Especially with you.

I think it's his way of being vulnerable.

He'd let you touch his scars.

I don't think they'd be sensitive physically, but maybe they'd be sore reminders of his lack of a normal life.

That's why it's so special that he lets you of all people touch them.

~ NSFW ~

Loves loves loves kisses.

Let Me explain.

When he's got you on your back, your eyes glazed over and completely unfocused, his favorite thing to do is lean down, squeeze your cheeks until your lips pucker, and give you lots of sloppy kisses.

He doesn't mind all the drool, in fact, it kinda adds to it.

He'll wipe away the tears sliding down your cheeks with his thumb, before popping it into your mouth, letting you suck it off, before slipping his tongue between your lips so he can taste your sweat tears too.

He's so condensing too. :(

Mean, mean man.

Calls you names, likes to smack, spits.

I think he likes to display his strength, probably holds you up as he thrusts into you, no matter your weight.

I keep writing abt him and he's starting to grow on me smh.😒

Okay that's all for now! <3

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger 

Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 2

The next day, during your lunch break, you made another attempt to persuade Raphael to take his clothes off. The clock struck noon; your private laptop was on the right side of your desk, while your work laptop was on the left, Teams open and your mouse ready to show signs of activity from time to time.

The sun was shining through the wide open window, children playing outside. Idyllic. Nothing sinister could be happening in broad daylight with those happy sounds in the background. The horror movies told you so. Except for Midsommar.

Well, screw Midsommar, then. This isn’t Sweden.

"All right, I'm going to set some ground rules here," you said to the loading screen. "I can be as creepy as I want to be to you, because you're just a bunch of pixels, but you can't do anything creepy to me, because I'm a human being. Got that? Good."

The sound of your voice made you feel braver.

As you heard the familiar sinister 'you-let-the-villain-win-bad-player' music in the background, you covered your eyes with your hands and peered through splayed fingers.

Then he appeared. Just as you had wished. Perfectly naked, with a stereotypical video game six-pack and just the right amount of body hair. The orange lighting made his skin glow, and his flaccid penis, like that of the game's generic male model, vanished from sight as he strode closer.

Your ears pricked up to listen to the scripted monologue you knew by heart, watching (waiting?) for any hiccups or new animations, the YouTube app on your phone playing the identical scene for comparison.

Everything happened exactly as it should, word for word, save for the speaker’s nudity.

All good. You breathed a sigh of relief and spread your fingers wider to admire Raphael a little better. 

Same as always. Handsome and charming and completely imaginary, which, now that you thought about it, was the biggest part of his charm. 

"Ta-ta... for now," Raphael's signature line echoed through the room.

"Bravo, Raphael," you praised the screen. "You've done nothing creepy. You have earned your title of Archdevil Supreme."

After waiting for a response that never came, you laughed off your silliness and shook your head. Your laptop was overheating, giving off a slight synthetic smell. Should have upgraded a long time ago. Just need to put enough money aside.

"OK, screenshots," you said. "I wanted to take some screenshots. Do you mind, Raphael? Can I have your consent? They’ll help recruit more followers for you, my liege."

Your phone vibrated. The FaceID gave you a preview of the Discord messages from Queen-of-the-Bored, one of the few Raphaelites you'd actually spoken to directly and felt like you kinda sorta knew.

queen-of-the-bored: ngl that was some really funny joke, we spent the whole night trying to recreate it :-D queen-of-the-bored: you sounded legit worried over that voice message tho haha you: it was legit. check the reddit thread queen-of-the-bored: which thread

Ok, let me google that for you. You typed in the same search words as yesterday, "Raphael naked mod April prank," clicked on the thread from yesterday, and skimmed through the comments.

“nah not joking there is this naked mod for teenage mutant ninja""

“all dongs appeared MASSIVE on April’s first”

Scrolling further, you realized that was not the correct Raphael - it's Raphael the Turtle, not Raphael the Devil. Why was there so much NSFW content about him? What did people see in turtles?

You quickly corrected your search to "Raphael BG3 naked mod April prank," but it didn’t bring back any relevant results. So, you changed it to "last twenty four hours" just to be thorough.

Didn’t help. Nothing. You were the only to be called a naughty little mouse. The special one.

queen-of-the-bored: which thread dude??? you: my bad it was the turtle queen-of-the-bored: ??? queen-of-the-bored: I am slowly getting worried about you haha

Next step? Contact the mod developer directly? What if they have no idea what you're talking about?

Then what? What were the alternative theories? You've been hacked and doxxed to madness for that one Twitter post that got people waving pitchforks at you? 

There you go, you were scared again. Daytime, sun shining and children playing outside, but there you were, alone in your flat, scared again.

You took a deep breath and looked at the screen. "All right, I understand, Mr Archdevil Supreme. No screenshots. I'll uninstall the mod and I apologise for my disrespectful behaviour."

You couldn't bear to see Raphael's face on the screen again so you hit ctrl alt delete instead of Escape and stared blankly at the Task Manager.

Next, you uninstalled the mod that had caused all this trouble. Then you went to Tumblr and removed the reblog of Raphael in a cat playsuit with the tag "my poor miau miau". Then you deleted your bookmarks on AO3. Your Twitter account was beyond repair, so you deleted it altogether.

None of these actions made you feel any better. You grabbed a quick cup of shrimp noodles, but eating it only made you feel worse. As you tasted the sodium on your tongue, you came to a realisation: what you needed was to go the fuck outside.

You had been stuck in your flat and home office since the start of the pandemic, chronically online. Online work, online colleagues, online friends, who was the last real person you saw, talked to and hugged?

Your mum, probably. 

Oh yes, no wonder you were going mad. You need to get out there and meet some real people. You opened Discord, quickly scrolled past the sketch of Tav giving Raphael head, and typed a message: you needed to touch grass.

queen-of-the-bored: well there is Comic-Con this weekend  you: this is NOT touching grass, this is burning it queen-of-the-bored: true you: besides not going alone queen-of-the-bored: maybe Raph will keep you company 😈 

What? Such a strange thing to say. Or was it? Who the hell was that behind the screen anyway? Apparently someone called Sammy from Ohio. Supposedly. Wasn’t she the one who recommended this mod?

She was.

Come on, you're just letting your paranoia get the best of you.

queen-of-the-bored: oh BTW I found THE hottest Raph smut  queen-of-the-bored: mind the tags it's so hot but soooooo fucked up queen-of-the-bored: just read it trust me thank me later

Who the hell were you, Sammy from Ohio, Korilla? You put the phone down and started pacing around your small flat. It was not much to pace around, only forty-two square meters. 

At least you rent a flat in a building with other people and not some house at the edge of the forest. Strangers live below you, above you and on either side of you. They don't know you and you don't know them... but they were there, just in case...

Just in case.

"You know what?" you said to your computer. "I need a break. I need to focus on my mental health. Self-care, Raphael. I'm not playing with you. For now".

The moment you finished speaking, your phone lit up again with another notification. This time it was an email. You made a mental note to start managing your notifications better.

Did you enjoy your Devil Dick © - Natural Red experience? We know you will be back for more 😈 Check out the new...

What the fuck? Oh no, no, click away and make a mental note to never order from Bad Dragon again with customer satisfaction emails like this. It's borderline harassment. You ordered from them ONCE, as a joke, just to see what ridges might feel like.

Not as good as the smut had promised you,

Private. Private stuff. Between you and your bed drawer. Between you and your browser. God, how much stuff you have in your browser history. You should have used incognito mode more often.

Would that have helped? 

"That was low, Raphael," you muttered. "Or is it Haarlep today?"

You glanced around your room before angling your computer screen towards the wall, then retrieved the Devil Dick © from its hideaway in your bedside drawer. Your fingers grazed over the silicon ridges as you swiftly stashed it away in a box beneath the bed.

"If you must know, it was too big for me. Flattered?"

Crawling out from under the dusty bed, you looked up and realized for the first time that anyone in the building could easily peep into the flat if they tried hard enough or cared enough to do so.

Enough is enough.

You need to hydrate, you need to eat some vegetables, you need to start jogging again and you definitely... you definitely need to go out and talk to some real people. Maybe it's time to get back on Bumble and try your luck again. Who knows, it might actually work this time.

He wouldn't like that.

Where did that thought just come from? He wouldn't like it, who the hell cares what some imaginary devil thinks.

Standing up straight, you pointed a finger at the screen in front of you.

"Raphael, just so we are clear, you and I: I really like you. I do PR for you every day for free. You don't have to scare me to get my attention. You should appreciate me and be nice to me. I'm the best agent you'll ever have.”

Having made your point, you put on your running shoes and AirPods. It brought back memories of all the times you had jogged through the nearby park. Afterwards you'd sit on the bench and eat an ice-cream, watching couples, happy and glowing, watching families with children, happy and stressed, watching people living their lives in a reality parallel to yours, and then you'd come home and go into a reality parallel to theirs.

The AirPods picked up right where they left off last time.

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear

I wanna fucking tear you apart

You removed the AirPods from your earlobes and exhaled. This wasn’t Raphael's fault. This is She Wants Revenge, you have listened to it a thousand times. You knew the lyrics, they hadn't changed. 

You can't even listen to music anymore. Pull yourself together. 

Get some vitamins from the pharmacy.

Touch some goddamn grass.

***

You stuck to your digital and physical diet until the weekend, and as a reward, nothing happened. No oddly timed emails, no strange messages, no random phone calls. Maybe it was your pitch talk or the vitamins you started taking, but either way, Raphael was on his best behavior, and so were you. 

No Tumblr, no AO3. Didn't even touch Steam. Got into a highbrow podcast about the Roman Empire.

You set a new personal record for days without 'self-indulgence', as Raphael would put it, although that wasn't really the intention. Something always seemed to interrupt - whether it was the loud hum of the fridge (which was always obnoxious) or the flickering light in the hallway (which had been broken for over a week). 

By Friday, you had finally finished the work projects you had been putting off for months. The job wasn't too bad, but it hadn't been any fun for years, if it ever had been. You did the bare minimum to get the paycheck and keep the job, and your employer kept the paycheck at the bare minimum to keep you. If there was anything else you could do, you would do something else.

Still, this was probably the most productive week you had in years. You scrubbed your flat from top to bottom twice and cleared your wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit.

You were proud of yourself.

Gradually your sense of security began to return. You tried not to dwell too much on the incident with the naughty little mouse; if you didn't think about it, it almost felt like it hadn't happened.

On Friday, you plucked up the courage to play BG3 again, wandered through Baldur's Gate, avoiding the House of Hope for the time being, had a few fights, played the graveyard scene with Astarion (daring, but a small part of you hoped it would make Raphael jealous enough to come out again), and shut it down. 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You hadn't planned to go to Comic-Con. For one thing, it was on the other side of the city, in the business district of the convention centre, so it would take at least an hour to get there. Secondly, going alone just felt... weird.

It was not until Friday night that a little voice in your head started to whisper, "Why not? Maybe you'll meet some like-minded people”. Make some friends you can actually touch (not in a creepy way). 

It's a better chance than endlessly swiping on Bumble.

Maybe you'll meet...

Neil Newbon. If you can get past the hordes of fangirls. Andrew Wincott. No, Andrew Wincott wouldn't be there; you'd checked beforehand. To be honest, hearing his voice might have been too much for your psyche at that moment.

So you decided to go. You went, and it was as fun as you had imagined it would be - that is, hardly any. The convention hall was huge and crowded, rows and rows of stalls, crowds and crowds of people. Live panel discussions, cosplayers, flashing lights, bright colors, chatter, laughter, very loud, very lively.

Raphael wouldn't last a minute in that chaos.

"Hell is other people," you thought to yourself, quoting Sartre. If you ever met Raphael, you'd quote Sartre to him too. He must know that you read intelligent books and not just fanfiction. 

Some people might be comfortable going to events and eating alone in restaurants, but not you. It's even worse being the odd one out in a group of odd ones. How come all the others had someone to take along? Where did they find all those people in this godforsaken city?

You talked to a few people and a few people talked to you. Nothing really took off. Your mind was elsewhere, to be fair. You were looking for something in the crowd. 

Someone.

It was absurd, yes, but so was what happened this week with the mod. You had met a few Raphael cosplayers, three at least, but they were...

Well, of course they weren't him. But they did a great job with the clothes and the hair and the make-up, and one had really great prosthetic horns, and you touched them and admired them and praised that particular Raphael for all his hard work in creating them.

They were real people, not video game characters that had come to life, and neither were you. You looked down at your jeans, at your thighs, and thought you should start jogging again, and felt even less comfortable in your own skin. 

Then Neil Newbon came along and things quickly became too chaotic for you.

You decided to take a break and walked down the street until you came across a cosy café - none of that generic chain stuff, but something that tried hard to be authentic with pretty flowers in the windows.

Sitting alone at a table for two, you looked down at your phone and opened the Discord chat because you came here to talk to some real people.

In the main chat, there was a heated debate about whether devils are allowed to torture mortals into signing contracts. Both sides presented arguments based on lore, edition contradictions, past precedents and personal conviction. 

A man's voice interrupted you as you typed your own very elaborated opinion of hellish law. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the AirPods.

"Sure," you replied with practiced friendliness, not even looking up. That was always your default answer. It's not like you can say no to this kind of request anyway. 

People ask and do a lot of things out of politeness. That was precisely why you took the AirPods out of your ears.

The moment you lifted your eyes to meet the man's, you learned the true meaning of the word 'jumpscare'. Your body jerked upwards, the table shook and the coffee cup tumbled - narrowly missing Raphael.

Raphael. 

Not a man who looked like Raphael, not a man who was dressed like him - Raphael. 

You weren't sure if you made any sound or uttered any words. You probably yelped.

What you did do for sure was gawk.

His skin tone identical; hair slicked back just right; eyes uncannily accurate in hue and shape - down to every wrinkle. A perfectly realistic rendering. Not the uncanny valley type, no, perfectly believable. This is exactly what he would look like if he were real and swapped his fantasy clothes for a business suit.

So this is what it feels like to go completely insane.

Very banal, actually. You are having a psychotic breakdown and no one is even looking at you, except for an imaginary devil.

"Oh my, my apologies," Raphael said as he quickly grabbed napkins to mop up the spreading lake of coffee on the table. "I did not mean to scare you."

Oh, but he did, very much. You could not breathe, your chest encased in an iron brace of fear. It's you who needs to apologise, and apologise fast, and apologise a lot, and beg for mercy. Especially for liking the Twitter art of him being spit-roasted between Yurgir and Haarlep. 

If you only knew... you would never have clicked on it... absolutely never... all those posts you wrote... 

"Raphael?" you managed to squeak out. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

This must be how a deer feels in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He looked at you, very sincere confusion etched across his handsome face. "Excuse me?"

You drew in a shaky breath, your nostrils flaring as you tried to catch a whiff of cherries under the aroma of fresh coffee, not caring how absurd you appeared. Yes? No? Or was that strawberry jam on his croissant? Have your senses gone haywire? Your mind certainly has.

"You're... you're here to cosplay Raphael?" 

The thought tumbled out of your mouth before it had time to fully form in your head. It was the only explanation that made sense... It didn't, but it made more sense than all the others put together.

Raphael moved closer, pulled up a chair and asked, amused: "I beg your pardon, I'm here to do what to whom?"

The voice. The voice was the same. Andrew Wincott's voice. The man had simply stolen his voice. Or had the man stolen it from him? The movements, the mannerisms, the facial expressions. This man could not be Raphael because...

Well, because this man was real. As real as you were. 

"Raphael," you explained. "From the video game. Are you here to cosplay... to play... Raphael?"

The man gave you a look as if questioning your sanity, and rightfully so. You were also sweating bullets - could he see the damp patches under your hoodie? You pressed your arms against your sides; wouldn't want him noticing.

"I'm hardly an actor," Raphael replied with a polite smile, "although there was a time in my youth when I entertained such ambitions."

He chuckled lightly and took a leisurely sip of his coffee. 

"I'm here to enjoy my espresso, nothing more. I... have never been particularly fond of..." he added with the disdain of a typical middle-aged man, "... video games.”

You had no response for that because Raphael wouldn't be into video games either; that much was believable.

"My office is across the street," he said, pointing towards the office complex opposite you. "Precisely there."

The golden sign on the building across from you, d'Avergni & Partners, told you nothing, except that Raphael had an office job and an office space and a desk and all the things that the devil shouldn’t have because the devil invented them to torture the others.

Raphael was dressed like he had just stepped out of a board meeting. A three-piece slate gray tailored suit, white shirt peeking out from underneath, silk tie and matching pocket square. Of all the modern Raphael AUs, you preferred the Professor one, you voted for it, you had Sucharide’s fic bookmarked. The Professor was more, ugh...

Safe.

As for you, you were wearing a hoodie with your university on it. A clean hoodie, but a hoodie nonetheless. What the hell else would you be wearing to Comic Con? You didn't do your hair. Well, putting it in a ponytail is not doing your hair. Why did you not do your hair? 

"I know, I know, you must be wondering why anyone would toil on a weekend," Raphael continued. That was the last thing you were wondering. "Alas, no rest for the wicked."

"Wicked?" you echoed. You looked at the people in the cafe, sure they were staring at the both of you, but they weren't.

"Oh," he chuckled lightly, "it's just an expression – 'No rest for the wicked.' You've never heard it before?"

"Of course I have," you said, momentarily embarrassed. "Never mind...sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Raphael raised his eyebrows. "In fact, I should be the one to apologise for startling you. May I offer you another cup of... ah, what was that... cappuccino? After twelve? Tsk-tsk, young lady".

Not a single modern man could ever manage to say the words "tsk-tsk, young lady" as charmingly. That was Raphael.

"No bother, I can get one myself," you said quickly, about to stand up. 

He raised his hand slightly and put it down to halt your movement, and for a second you thought he was going to touch you, and if he had, if you had felt the skin of his skin, he would have felt more real and you would have died on the spot from a bursting heart.

"I have no doubt about that. But may I treat you? It would be my absolute pleasure”.

Pleasure. The way he said the word was straight obscene. You couldn't handle the word 'pleasure' coming from a man who had been responsible for more than half your orgasms in the last few months.

So in your daze, you mumbled: "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Raphael stood up and walked over to the barista. She acknowledged him, so that's one point for him being real and you not hallucinating. Not only did she acknowledge him but she flashed him a goofy grin - clearly smitten.

Of course she is.

You have to take a picture of him. How do you take a picture of someone without their consent without being a total creep?

You don't. It's in the fucking definition; you can't. But you should. Maybe you'll open your camera roll and see someone completely different, and then you'll know it's time to call for mental health services.

Your phone was buzzing with messages, which you quickly swiped away and went straight to the camera. You took a picture of him from behind while he ordered you a coffee. The barista gave you a “fucking weirdo” look. 

Fuck you, you thought, you have no idea what I am going through right now. Then you switched to the camera roll and checked to see if the photo reflected what you saw.

A broad, fit back of a very attractive middle-aged man with lush brown hair, paying for coffee with cash.

You couldn't decide whether this made you feel better or worse.

When Raphael returned with your cup, you had something for him too. "This is the character I was talking about," you said, a screenshot of virtual Raphael ready on your screen.

Anyone who saw the screenshot would say, "Who motion-captured me?" 

Not Raphael. He barely glanced before shrugging and handing your phone back. "Hmm, I see some resemblance, I guess."

Resemblance? What fucking resemblance? There was no resemblance; he WAS Raphael! You were about to argue but he beat you to it: "Why? Were you hoping to meet this...Raphael?" 

His voice dropped an octave and he looked at you intently. He was flirting - openly, unashamedly.

"I...I was," you stammered out. "He's my favourite character."

Brilliant, brilliant line. Dear diary, today I wanted to meet Raphael, my favourite character from my favourite game. So much for quoting Sartre.

"Well now, I'm flattered," Raphael purred, causing you to wriggle uncomfortably in your seat. "I do bear some physical likeness."

That was a massive understatement. 

The man had a disarmingly charming smile. You tried to remember if Raphael had ever smiled like that in the game. It was mostly scowls and grins and smirks, but this kind of smile? You didn't think so. You caught a glimpse of yourself in his hazel eyes, and that was not Tav; that was you. Just you.

Not that you were unattractive or anything. Average. Maybe even a little pretty on a good day. You didn't like yourself very much. Then again, most people don't. That's how the beauty industry makes its money. 

You got your share of attention, some, nothing to brag about. Had two boyfriends, it didn't work out, you used to care, now you don't. Certainly never got any attention from men who looked like him.

Why should this man be interested in you, why? Ah, yes. Your soul. He probably wants your soul. Is it worth much at all? Is it worth coming all the way to Earth? You wanted to apologize to him for going through all this trouble just for you.

"So this event in the convention hall down the street..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to recall a forgotten name.

"Comic-Con 2024," you supplied. "It's huge in fandom culture. TV shows, video games, that sort of stuff.”

"Ah. Not my kind of entertainment - or my kind of audience, for that matter," Raphael said with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyeing the “Astarion approves” badge on your backpack.  "It does remind me of a deal I signed recently."

"Deal?" you asked in a weak voice. He nodded. "What deal? With who?"

"With who? No, I meant the Microsoft-Blizzard acquisition". 

Ah, that kind of deal. The words felt so reassuring, so real, the acquisition. Raphael would have no idea about these words. Raphael wouldn't say "Microsoft". You mean the real Raphael. What the hell is a 'real' Raphael again?

For the first time, you let go of a little tension. You took a first sip of your coffee and leaned back slightly in your chair. 

"Actually, I think these acquisitions are really harmful for the industry," you said. 

Why did you have to be so confrontational? You didn't have anything clever to say about such things, so you spoke the truth instead. Bad idea.

"How candid of you to say that. Well, I’ll be just as candid with you: I am indeed a villain." Raphael grinned. "I hope you can forgive me." 

There went your short-lived relaxation, which lasted less than a minute.  Raphael had just looked at you and said "I am a villain". Challenge him. Tell him it's him because, well, it's him. It can only be him. Tell him you know it's him, and then...

And then what?

"Everybody's got a job to do, I guess", you managed to utter the most generic phrase in existence.

"Isn't that so..." Raphael replied, pausing for a moment before finishing the sentence with your name.

You did not introduce yourself to him. You were sure of it. Absolutely sure. 

"How do you know my name?" you asked, half rising from your chair, raising your voice and quickly lowering it again. "I didn't tell you my name. How do you know it?"

Raphael gestured to your phone, which lay on the table screen between the two of you. Your work ID card was tucked away in its transparent case - something you hadn't needed for a while.

It had your first and last name on it.

"I saw it right before my eyes," he explained. "I thought it was a hint."

"It wasn't," you said.

"Oh, another faux pas on my part then," he said. "At this rate, I owe you something to make up for all my many transgressions. Perhaps dinner?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. One of your popular Tumblr posts had been an impassioned rant about how Raphael had promised a similar in-game offer but failed to deliver despite the many times you gave him the Crown.

"I seem to have absolutely terrified you, and that was not my intention. I insist on making it up to you. If you allow me, of course. I don't want to impose. Would you allow me to?"

He looked at you with the intensity of a man admiring a beautiful woman, his shoulders back and chin slightly up, trying to present himself from his best angle - something you've seen men do before, but rarely (if ever) to you. It was as if he could hang on every word that came out of your mouth, simply because he enjoyed watching your lips move. Raphael looked like he was in love, for Christ's sake.

Your cheeks grew warm. 

"Yes," you replied.

He kept silent for a bit, savouring your answer. 

"Splendid. Where might I collect you?"

It took you a moment to realise that he was asking for your address. Your personal address. Shouldn't he know it already, if he was Raphael? You replied as nonchalantly as possible:

"Why don't I give you my number and we can arrange to meet at the center?"

His expression darkened slightly; you've seen this look in the game before.

No, you shouldn't have said that. You wanted him to like you. 

Desperately.

"You don't trust me?" Raphael's voice dropped an octave or two, playful and just a little threatening.

You felt his breath on your face (cherries?) and the next second you stopped feeling your legs. The attraction that had been simmering inside you for months started boiling over.

Breathe. Pretend it's not Raphael. A man came up to you in a coffee shop and asked you if you trusted him in that kind of tone, leaning in like that. You know what the sensible thing to do would be - get up and walk away. And if it really was Raphael, get up and run away. 

You remained seated and stayed. 

"Just, ugh..." was all you managed to get out of the jumbled thoughts in your head; two coherent sentences so far into the conversation, and both of them made you sound like an absolute madwoman. 

Raphael laughed.

"Of course you don't trust me, that's only prudent, and you seem to be quite an intelligent young lady. But just so we are clear, you and I: you have nothing to fear from me. What is that number of yours?"

Quite an intelligent young lady, the words echoed in your mind and you remembered your naughty anonymous Tumblr confession: I would suck every last drop of cum out of him as long as he kept praising me.

God, everything you've read with him in the main role. Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, pet play... you weren't even into half of it. You hoped Raphael didn’t think you actually wanted him to do all of the things you read with you.

You just liked clicking on random links.

"Do you need something to write it down or...?" you asked hesitantly.

"I will remember," he said curtly. “I do not forget things easily”.

You realised that there was something far more frightening than anything that had happened before: that he wouldn't remember, that he would never call you, and that this conversation and this meeting would end there. 

So you carefully enunciated each number, then took a pen from your pocket and wrote it down on a napkin: it seemed romantic in the movies, but your handwriting and the coffee stain made it look like a secret message from the madhouse.

He grinned and tucked the napkin into the pocket of his suit.

He took the last sip of coffee and then took your hand in his. He touched you. His skin was warm and real and soft and everything you had ever imagined, his touch surprisingly tender. 

Your whole body responded to that tiny crumb of affection, viscerally. You hadn't realized how famished you were for a touch until that moment.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed them against yours. His lips were soft too, slightly damp from the coffee.

"I am looking forward to our rendezvous," Raphael murmured against your palm. "Ver much so."

Rendezvous.

In any other situation, a middle-aged man kissing your hand would be downright creepy. But this... this was a fever dream, an illusion, anything but reality. Because there was no way this madness could actually be happening to you.

Was it a bad thing? Was reality ever... this? So unpredictable? So exciting? 

You only snapped out of it when the door closed behind him, but you snapped out hard. You practically threw yourself at the next table, where a group of guys were sitting, their appearance screaming video games - backpacks and scruffy beards, Warhammer-emblazoned T-shirts. 

You grabbed one by the shoulder and hissed urgently: "Guys-guys-guys-guys." Your words came like rapid fire. "Tell me that guy doesn't look exactly like Raphael from Baldur's Gate? That one? On the street behind the window?" 

Damn, you sounded desperate.

"Ah, sorry, never played it," came the nonchalant reply before he turned back to his friends' conversation.

"Baldur's Gate," chimed in another, his face lighting up. "Amazing game. Looks like who?"

"Raphael," you said. "The devil."

The guy laughed, but didn't even look where you were pointing.

"Ah, the two-pump chump?"

You shot a quick glance at Raphael. His eyes met yours through the glass window, and they were cold now; his smile was gone. 

I didn't say that, you pleaded with him in your thoughts. That guy said that. That guy over there. I would never say that.

Your defence of his bed skills stretched from Reddit to Tumblr threads, you argued that Haarlep was slandering him, that Raphael was the best fuck there ever was and you personally vouched for that because you fucked him a thousand times in your head.

"Don't call him that, please," you whispered to the guy. He gave you a confused look when you pointed at Raphael again: "Look at him. The one staring at us. Does he look like him?

Is he real? Do you see him too?

"Ah yes," he admitted with a grin on his face, raising the cup of coffee to his lips, "he sort of does. Yes, he does! Well, I hope he doesn't...oh shit! FUCK!".

The guy's face contorted in pain as he clutched his mouth, jumping, cursing, tears streaming down his face. You could see the skin on his lips reddening and blistering.

"What the fuck?! It's fucking boiling! FUCK! "

The barista rushed over to him, spewing apologies as she tried to handle the situation. You took a step back and glanced at Raphael whose lips were moving subtly - two syllables that matched rhythmically: 'bye-bye' or maybe 'ciao-ciao'. 

It didn't have to be 'ta-ta'. He waved nonchalantly at you.

You waved back.

NEXT: Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

[tobiasdrake]

Digimon Adventure 01x02 - Explosive Evolution! Greymon! / The Birth of Greymon

Well, I want to be sleeping right now but Insomnia Night says no. So I guess it's time for the next episode.

Last time on Digimon Adventure, everybody was sent hurtling to their deaths by local wildlife. Hooray!

The newly Child-stage Digimon make an attempt to save their partners from falling to their doom, but they can't support an 11-year-old's body weight so this goes south immediately.

Notably, in the earlier fight with Kuwagamon, every Digimon got to show off their new Child-stage signature attack except Gomamon. This is because his move isn't usable when he's that far from a water source. He's kind of the Superfriends Aquaman of Digimon.

As the children plunge into the river, Gomamon gets to strut his signature attack: Marching Fishes.

Fun fact, Digimon call all of their attacks in English rather than Japanese because it's a cool, exotic language to scream attack names in, but one that everyone in Japan is familiar with.

Just as the kids think they're safe, Kuwagamon... uh... attacks?

For real, it honestly looks like they fell asleep standing up and then flopped over into the river. This looks much more like Kuwagamon falling than attacking, but it's played up like they're attacking. Both they and the rocks hit the water, sending up a massive tidal wave that gently carries the children to shore.

Haha. Hahaha. Hahahahaha. Sure, Yamato. Whatever helps you cope.

Gomamon takes a moment to explain that he controls fish at will. Dub Gomamon goes for a bit less mind-controlly explanation, saying he and those fish are pals and he asked them for a ride.

From there it's reintroductions to the new Child-stage Digimon, as well as explaining how evolution works. The dub splices in stock footage from the evolutions in the previous episode, just to make sure you got it.

This is where a really interesting shift in translation occurs. Where Koushiro focuses in on evolution as a concept and Tentomon confirms they're talking about similar things, Izzy instead describes it like this: "So Digivolving is what happens when they advance to the next level and become more powerful than before." The dub's emphasis is on increasing their battle strength.

We see something similar in how the stages are even referred to. In Japanese, we know these as Baby, Child, and Adult stages; in English, they're In-Training, Rookie, and Champion. The Japanese names reference life cycles, while the American ones are more evocative of developing warriors.

Agumon further explains that he hadn't been able to evolve by himself before. He speculates that evolving earlier had something to do with meeting Taichi, and the other Digimon corroborate that speculation with their own feelings towards their Partners. They don't really understand how it works; However, they all agree that the kids have something to do with it.

The dub tonally shifts this to Agumon explaining in totally certain terms that they were able to Digivolve by "sharing [the kids'] energy". It's not explained super clearly what that means and Izzy's left with questions for how the energy's harvested, which go unanswered.

Dub Joe is also inexplicably hostile about the whole thing. Jou expresses that this whole thing doesn't make sense to him, with Gomamon agreeing that he's confused too. Dub Joe instead snipes, "My folks warned me about strangers!" out of absolutely nowhere.

Once all that's settled, it's time to move on to next steps. There's a lot of changes happening in this scene.

Jou wants to go back up to where Kuwagamon was hunting them because they're supposed to stay put and wait for adults to come and get them. However, the group quickly agrees that climbing back up that cliff is an unreasonable plan.

The dub seems to really not like Jou's deference to general adult supervision because once again they scrub it out. Joe instead wants to find a pay phone to call the police, fire department, and his mom. Still adults and authority figures, to be fair, but not exactly the same vibe as "Let's stay where we are and wait for the adults to come get us." Rather, this is foreshadowing for later in the episode.

Jou is the group's senpai; He's responsible for their wellbeing but he has no idea how to be responsible for them. This is part of his character journey.

Yamato points out that this place doesn't look anything like the camp site they were at; Koushiro agrees, speculating based on local vegetation that they're somewhere in the subtropics. Matt wants to find a road leading to safety, but Izzy points out that navigation without a compass is hard.

Jou suggests they can find a road that might take them back up to where they arrived, still on that "Wait for adults to come get us" thing. Joe whines that his pants aren't good for hiking.

Sora then suggests that if they do go back up the cliff, they might find clues to how they got here; However, Mimi fears further attacks from creatures like Kuwagamon. The dub translates this part faithfully.

Taichi asks if there are any other humans around, but Agumon confirms that they're alone here. It's only DIgimon. This also gets translated faithfully.

From there, the group discusses File Island for a moment. Nobody has any idea where this place is, with Jou suggesting they might not even be in Japan anymore. The dub already blew the big reveal by saying "Digi-World" instead of "File Island" so their kids instead briefly question whether or not nighttime exists in this place. Izzy finds the topic ridiculous since it would be "unnatural" for nighttime not to exist, prompting Joe to ask what part of this is natural. Valid counterpoint.

Once all that's settled, Taichi takes charge and gets us moving. He saw the ocean when he was scouting before Kuwagamon's attack so we're heading that way. Though Jou takes one last chance to insist on his preferred course of action: We need to stay put and wait for adults to find us.

So the rest of the group just starts walking and tries to leave his ass here, with Gomamon calling out to get him moving too. XD

This joke does get somewhat faithfully translated. Joe wants to find a cave and hide, but "We keep our eyes open and when a camp counselor comes--" which is when Gomamon calls out to him.

It still works, but doesn't hit quite the same tone as when this is like his fifth time interjecting with this.

Once the group gets walking, they take another assessment of their surroundings. Koushiro revises his assessment of the flora being subtropical. Jou repeats that they're probably not in Japan. Then Yamato points out that the Digimon seem like a pretty big tipoff that something's weird about this place.

The dub gets as far as Izzy saying he thought the plants were subtropical, but they don't want to talk about being in Japan for localization reasons. So Joe instead derails the conversation to complain about his hay fever being aggravated, before Matt groans, "Is there anything you don't complain about!?"

As they make their way to the ocean, the kids take some time to get to know their partners. Patamon and Piyomon demonstrate that they can both fly, but not well. Then this hilarious bit happens.

Mimi: Palmon, you look kind of like a plant. Palmon: I am! I can even conduct photosynthesis. Mimi: That's so cool! Do it! Do it! Palmon: ...Mimi, do you know what photosynthesis is? Mimi: No, not really. What is it? Palmon: ...well, I don't really know either....

The dub wipes out this entire exchange and instead has Mimi inexplicably gush about Palmon's "hair". She wants to try and do Palmon's hair herself, to which Palmon accuses her of caring too much about appearances before rejecting her offer. For a second time, the dub is weirdly mean to Mimi for no apparent reason. She has done nothing but be nearby dressed in pink!

Once they arrive at the beach, they come upon a most unexpected sight.

Hey look, it's those pay phones that Dub Joe wanted! Joe is naturally ecstatic about this discovery.

The Japanese group takes a moment to agree among themselves that these are definitely pay phones, just like the ones you see around town. Jou takes this as confirmation that they're still in Japan, only to have his hopes utterly destroyed when Gomamon asks what this Japan thing he keeps talking about is.

In English, Izzy wildly speculates that aliens put these phones here as a trap. Matt wants to order a pizza; Mimi demands no anchovies. Again trying to avoid Japan as a topic, Joe instead suggests these phones are for calling your parents for a ride, at which point Gomamon asks what parents are.

Taichi gets impatient with standing around contemplating the mystery phones and decides to use them instead. As soon as he bites that bullet, the rest of the group flood into the phone booths to do the same.

As Koushiro hands his phone card over to Taichi, dub Izzy says, "Use my phone card; The aliens can bill me." Goddammit, XD.

It does not go well. On the other end of the phone, all they can get are seemingly prerecorded messages replying with absolute gibberish.

"The time is now 38:82:90 AM." "Tomorrow's weather will be sunny with occasional ice cream." "This phone is currently outside all service areas."

The dub fully understood the assignment on this one and even spices up a couple of them. Instead of 39 o'clock, the time is now 45 MPH... and 90 seconds. My favorite bad phone message is the dub's "To leave a message, press 1 now. To leave a fingerprint, press 2 now!"

As it becomes apparent that these phones aren't their salvation, Taichi and Yamato break into an argument over next steps. Taichi wants to give up on the phones and leave, but Yamato steamrolls him with logic.

1 - The phones were ringing earlier. Even if we can't call out, if we hang out here, someone might call us. 2 - Not to mention, the whole group is too tired to start marching again.

With Koushiro backing him up and pointing out that everyone's getting hungry, Taichi relents. We'll stay here and take a break.

Discussing food options, the group inspect their belongings and rediscover their Digivices. They'd completely forgotten about those things. Cool, but not edible so. Y'know. Questions for later.

Setting those aside for now, the group goes over what they have on them to see who's got something to eat.

Sora: First aid kit. Koushiro: Laptop, digital camera, and cell phone. All non-functional since arriving on File Island. Taichi: Mini telescope.

Takeru: JACKPOT

I mean, it's all sweets so it's not very nutritional. But you know what it's not? It's not starving to death on the beach of a deserted island.

Mimi, meanwhile, is decked out for wilderness survival. She was nervous about the camping trip so she plundered her dad's stuff without his knowledge - A decision that, the group agrees, may be what keeps them alive in this place.

The dub once again takes this opportunity to be mean to Mimi. She describes the Swiss Army Knife as "one of those knives with all the things", which I actually like. She's like 10, that's a fair description for a 10-year-old who doesn't go camping.

But then they cut out her explanation of why she has all this stuff. Instead, Matt brings up earlier in the dub when Izzy mentioned they don't have a compass and snaps at MImi for not telling them she had one; Mimi defends herself by saying she thought it'd be fun to see how far they can get without it.

Y'all, they seriously changed a line earlier so they'd have something to yell at Mimi for later. The dub is so mean to Mimi.

Fortunately Jou, who's been busy trying to get the phones to work and hasn't followed the conversation, has the solution to our food problem: A bag of emergency rations he's been trying to pass off to Mimi.

As the group begins divvying upon the food, Jou crunches the numbers. It's supposed to be enough food for three days, but Takeru wasn't supposed to be on this camping trip; He snuck in to spend time with Yamato. So that's an extra mouth. Furthermore, the Digimon are going to double their food consumption.

The Digimon chime in to say they can forage just fine. They've been fending for themselves in the wilderness all their lives; They don't need to eat the emergency rations. That will help extend their time.

The dub simplifies the math a bit by counting T.K. as having officially been part of the trip, so there's an even share of food for him already accounted for.

However, while this conversation is happening, Taichi and Agumon are already digging into the rations. Whoops.

Before anyone else has a chance to eat, the kids are under attack once more. A subterranean assailant destroys the phone booths and their reason for lingering on this beach.

This is the Adult-stage Shellmon. His name is in English so it's pretty easy to tell what it's supposed to reference. The Digimon try their best to defend the kids from Shellmon, but only one of them has any energy to fight.

Agumon's signature move is called Baby Flame 'cause he's just a little guy. The dub changes it to Pepper Breath, which admittedly sounds cool as heck.

It quickly becomes apparent that he's the only one with stamina to fight. That's. Uh. That's a problem because Shellmon is Adult-stage like Kuwagamon. It took the entire group to fight Kuwagamon. And they lost.

So. Y'know. Agumon doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of holding this line. But he's gonna have to.

Demonstrating the courage that will become such a defining aspect of his character, Taichi throws himself into the fray. He leaps into action to distract Shellmon and open him up to flanking shots from Agumon. He also tries to fight more directly.

It does not go well. Taichi has zero chance of winning a fistfight with a kaiju shellfish. However, his courage and boldness sparks the next stage of Agumon's evolution.

With the theme song roaring up again, Agumon SHINKAAAAAA!

Agumon's Adult stage is Greymon. A bit of an odd name for such a colorful creature. I'm of the understanding that it's based on a form of grey that means "ancient", because he's clearly a dinosaur. That, however, is not a usage of the word that I'm familiar with.

Greymon's evolution is slightly different between versions. Just before Agumon evolves, in Japanese, he screams Taichi's name out of desperation. "TAICHI!!!" he cries out, before suddenly evolving into Greymon and gaining the power to fight back.

In English, he instead shouts "Digivolve!" like a battle cry, making it seem a little more like he's in control and doing this on purpose.

Taking control of this situation, Greymon hurls Shellmon into the air and unveils his new attack: Mega Flame, the vastly more powerful counterpart to Baby Flame. The dub calls it Digi-Nova Blast.

Mega Flame launches Shellmon into the distance and sends him crashing into the ocean offshore from File Island. A much more decisive victory than their previous encounter with Kuwagamon, though Shellmon likely is still alive out there.

Given what just happened, the group decides to keep their Digimon well-fed rather than trying to preserve the rations. Also, to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. There's no reason to stay since the phones have been destroyed, and Shellmon could return at any moment.

Jou takes this opportunity to once more pitch returning to the woods they originally landed in, but he gets thoroughly outvoted. It's up a cliff, it's far away, no more Kuwagamon. Legit, in the dub, Mimi just frets about running into Kuwagamon again, but Japanese Mimi shrieks at Jou, "NO MORE KUWAGAMON!!!" XD I love that delivery.

Koushiro has a better plan: Phones imply the existence of people who installed them, so let's be proactive and go look for those people. Jou is once more outvoted.

With that settled, we have a little bit of food, we have a plan, and the group sets off to pursue this thin thread of hope that they've found.

[rivetgoth]

Hello I saw your post on HRT and how you said that the difference between 1 year and 5 years is pretty big, and I wanted to ask you what is the difference between 1 year and 5 years? I have some friends who are unable to continue HRT because we live in an area where it's banned and they're in the early stages so I was only able to ask them about their experiences but I want to know more to understand it and support them better. Thank you for answering if indeed you do!

Hey! I’m gonna copy-paste another comment I left for someone else who asked if that’s okay, just because it was pretty detailed and I think I said everything I could possibly say, but it was just a random response to someone so it understandably got drowned by all the other notes my post got haha.

Here (+original link):

When it comes to the long term changes I would most aptly describe it as simply MORE.

All of those “early changes” people talk about, literally every one of them, just continue to happen, in ways that are subtle but absolutely crucial for long term and consistent passing.

More facial hair. More body hair. More bottom growth. More voice drop. More body fat redistribution. More changes to face shape and body shape. More muscle development. More change to the hairline, the skin texture, even just the way your brain works. By year 2 I was still excited when someone gendered me correctly, and still felt almost a sense of imposter syndrome when it did happen. I felt like I was teetering on the edge of masculinity. I think I passed as “trans” more than “male.” 5 years in it’s literally not something I think about. I just live as a man. I get gendered correctly from behind, with long hair, in women’s clothing and makeup… and on the rare occasion I get misgendered it’s the easiest correction to make and it’s immediately apparent to the other person that they were wrong, not me. My maleness is not a question. Nothing massive changed, it was just time.

Think about how cis men age: They don’t become adults and become static beings. Their voice continues to drop. Their hair patterns continue to change and develop. Many cis men can’t grow full beards until their 30s. Their weight patterns and body shapes change. Their muscles change, their skin changes. Aging isn’t a separate process from the masculinization or feminization of testosterone or estrogen. What we often take for granted as parts of becoming older men are still dependent on having a testosterone-dominant endocrine system. It’s not a process that starts and ends. I saw one person in the tags say “At a certain point it becomes a matter of aging as a certain gender,” and I think that’s such a fantastic way of putting it.

I think a lot of the early changes get propagated more in part because they’re easier to describe and more objective. Your voice will get deeper, your period will stop, you’ll begin to grow facial and body hair, your clitoris will change shape, etc are so much easier to articulate in a simple and accessible format than the much more subjective way it looks to age as a man. I think a lot of other issues intersect to make this stuff less acknowledged though, ranging from the simple fact that it’s still something of a rarity to see trans men who have been on T for a substantial amount of time—this stuff being widely accessible is still quite recent—plus the likelihood of long term transitioners to go stealth or at least focus less on their transition and thus their voice being heard less in the community than the younger guys who are still excited to report on every change because it’s all fresh and new (and the confirmation bias of the fact that guys with abnormally fast or significant changes are more likely to talk about it online, creating a false sense that this is the average experience), but also more nefarious and/or systemic issues, like there being no funding for comprehensive, good faith studies on long term transition, fearmongering about HRT positing it as this instant all-or-nothing life ruiner that will have you permanently fucking up your body within your first microdose, and the benefit of pushing propaganda that we CAN’T actually successfully transition, that success and long term happiness in transition is a myth. It isn’t.

[therealv1]

Some ultrakill headcanons

Gabriel has a lichtenberg scar from a fight with a fellow angel or heavenly entity that he was not on good terms with. - - Also generally a lot of scars. A fuckton. Metric ton, even. Eleven donuts worth, if we're going American.

Mad levels of anxiety. He struggles with GAD + panic attacks on a regular basis but has been able to maintain it after a while especially with the help of his husbands / start of living with them and working out the past issues.

I really like the idea of Gabriel being deeply into gardening, knowing the meanings of SO many flowers and sketching various things, don't get me wrong (+ he DEF has impostor syndrome) but. But hear me out.

TEA ENTHUSIAST! (I love tea, so I'm def projecting some.) And I love the idea that he just has a stash of tea + books he has found lying around about herbalism, medicinal properties of herbs, etc. Definitely has a mortar and pestle, makes his own spice mixes, has various tea strainers (maybe he'd find or make some cute ones, IDK) and so on

I go back and forth on his appearance, if it is even visible at all, so on. I like the idea that he is half oriented around the whole "biblically accurate angel'' portrayals but also has the head of an animal, specifically slightly lamb-leaning. I have more reasoning that it just being for religious symbolism, but I also won't deny that plays a part in it.

I also based his appearance somewhat off of the black and white art of the gate guardian from the SCP universe / Dr. Clef's Proposal for SCP-001 <3

Gabriel is intersex in my au

(This totally has nothing to do with my love of lichtenberg scars + lightning and storms or anything... /s)

V1 (humanoid ish/prime soul adjacent, I ought to get into detail about the AU but... bla bla, brevity bla bla, I digress) has a deeply uncanny face / appearance on the reg. It can't fully control it but even in the few moments where it has more power over its body it just typically chooses not to. It does get hurt though when people immediately get startled by its appearance but it "got used to it after a while"

Because I'm evil and a massive faggot V1 is in a harem w/ like. 99% of the ULTRAKILL cast. (Ignoring filth, sentry's, maurice', drones, virtues, et cetera/anything similar) - - Like dude kisses Gabriel, Minos, V2, Sisyphus, Ferryman, MDK, etc. ALL GOODNIGHT! And not even with the lights off, either... what a homo!

Learned pottery / how to mess with clay and ceramic type making things from the Ferryman. Violently enthusiastic over the concept of using its hands, very into craftsmanship. Would likely be a carpenter and/or "tinkerer" in life.

Used to reconstruct and deconstruct its body regularly (both for healthy and unhealthy reasons) but had to stop at Minos behest after getting caught one too many times.

Dissociates heavily. Sue me, I love and know the lore, I reread the wiki a disgusting amount but damn it! I love my own fanon.

Very curious about weather patterns

I'll try to think of more HC's for the others, but this is it for now haha + omg I just saw 1:11 on my clock. (I am tired)

one random and final headcanon: I'm really clinical over the idea of transfem minos. I feel like we deserve some transfem rep in ultrakill ngl Like obviously I love my transmasc homies, (I'm.. somewhere in an entirely different area of transgenderism at this point, transmasc no longer fits me, but again, I digress), and maybe I'm not looking in the right places, but I really feel like I do not see a lot of transfem or slightly unspecific fem variations of ULTRAKILL characters. I am ALLL for various depictions and I crave MORE MORE MORE! Perhaps I just need to scour the internet more

[athletearrhythmia]

Just curious how did you figure out your heart was enlarged and how did you get into the study?

Here's my lil journey:

About two years into lifting it occurred to me I could train my heart the way I train the rest of my body. If I could explore different ways to grow my pecs, why not different ways to grow my heart?

So I researched sports cardiology and figured out the best sport for heart enlargement was cycling. For two years that was my main cardio. In terms of programming, a basic cycle: establish aerobic base, introduce HIIT, longer sprints and shorter rests, build to threshold training. Just doing as much as my body would let me.

Tangentially i have a benign arrhythmia. I got my first echo, plus a lot of ekgs and a Holter, done while investigating that. The ekgs told me I probably had athlete's heart, and the echo confirmed it: big time. At that time my heart was 2SD above average for athlete's heart on most measurements.

I was addicted to seeing my heart and I wanted better imaging done so I started looking up studies and reaching out to universities. I ended up in two studies, one from my imaging last year and one from the mri I'm spamming content from now. You can find studies enrolling off a government website, it's annoying to find one that you want and qualify for but I just kept trying.

(A secondary thing is my heart is so large it needs screening for HCM and DCM. I didn't think it was likely but LGE mri and a vo2max test would have been ideal. Now I've had both. I estimated my vo2max at 77.5 recently and the mri included LGE which showed zero scarring, so I guess I'm just genetically blessed with a massive but healthy heart.)

All the while I've been seriously training my heart. I'm going to keep improving until I can't, and God willing that will still be a long time.

This year I added running to my program, as I found cycling wasn't challenging my heart enough by itself. I also figured my heart could maybe widen more but probably wouldn't thicken much more. Turns out I'm right, I was floored when I looked over the exam.

My LV is now 69mm, up from 59 last year, and my heart walls are at 15 and 14. Mind boggling numbers. I basically went from like huge heart to nearly impossible outlier.

My heart really does fill my chest, I really can feel how it takes up space. I can feel its powerful squeezing. I can feel it slamming when I exercise it.

Idk now I'm waxing poetic haha

[razzek]

inspired by your tags on that gifset about blue eyed samurai: please tell me about the best and worst blind representation in media according to you

Had to wait until I was at a keyboard and had the energy for this one haha.

Honestly, most blind rep is bad, to the extent that I avoid anything touting a blind character on instinct. Unless another blind person is recommending it, I prep myself to endure, at best, a lot of tedious stereotyping, and at worst something that will genuinely make me angry. I'm always surprised when I can unclench a bit over a blind character and be able to say just "eh he's alright".

But! There are a few blind characters I do like! While they are not perfect and somewhat fall into the realm of "blind in name only" (where magic or something else makes them function more like a sighted person), Toph from Avatar the Last Airbender and Terezi Pyrope of Homestuck get my nod of approval. While they both have some abilities that make them seem more sighted (Toph's earthbending, Terezi's super smelling/tasting), I find they get at some of the heart of what it's like to be blind. Toph has a viciously sharp sense of humor and leans into peoples' low expectations to tear them apart and the show isn't afraid to crack a few genuinely funny jokes about blindness. Similarly, Terezi is a delightful smartass who actually uses a white cane correctly (woohoo!) while taking advantage of peoples' ignorances. And both of them have friends who treat them as people first, which is incredibly rare in any media we're in. Terezi also has a very powerful moment in which she undoes a magical cure for blindness, something I have never seen anywhere else, which makes her stronger but also strikes at something the able bodied community always takes for granted: maybe we don't want to live in your world. That moment by itself was enough to have me make an homage to Terezi in my legal name when I changed it.

I have only seen the one movie so far but I like what I've encountered of Zatoichi, the blind swordsman. The stereotypes he falls into are not western ones so that kind of helps, and he has a fantastic confidence which he masks by playing up being a helpless blind man. It's very satisfying to watch him kick ass endlessly. :D

Also Gareth or whatever his name is from Quest for Camelot; it's a dumb movie but I will always give extra points for a character using a cane like we actually use them! The movie gets points for not curing his blindness and for a joke I quote to this day ("What are you doing?!" "I'm driving!"). XD Points lost for face touching though, GOD. Stop doing that, sighted people! It's weird and gross and the only time I ever want to touch anyone's face is with my fist!

In terms of the worst, if I ever meet the author of this one book I read which featured a totally helpless, whining blinded knight who becomes a total asshole when he's magically healed (also fuck magically curing disabilities), I will beat them over the head with their own shitty book and then make them eat it one page at a time. I didn't even finish that pile of trash, it made me so angry. Oh, and the entire book/movie titled Blindness. I'm glad that motherfucker is dead because fuck that guy. Not only is it a massive insult to the blind, it shits on what people are really like in a crisis. Honorable mention to that one very dumb movie where the blind war veteran is the movie monster, but it is at least good for a ton of laughs right up until it just veers off a cliff into "what the fuck?!" canyon, after which it is just a singularity of stupid.

[summerwritesfics]

🌾Earthrealm Valley, Chapter 2 - First Impressions

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 1590 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Stardew Valley AU, Fluff, Angst, Slice of life, Slow Burn, This fic runs on Stardew Valley logic so please don’t expect realism in any form

Earthrealm Valley Masterlist

Notes: I have something to admit to you… I actually wrote this and chapter 3 right after I wrote chapter 1… I just… Never posted them for some reason 🫣 So, uh… here take this, about 2 years late but… better than never, right? Haha. Right? 😭 So, uh, finally enjoy Hanzo & Kuai’s first meeting, and the beginning of Kuai Liang’s decent into being a feral little goblin man.

It was rare that the citizens of Dragon Town came to any sort of mutual agreement.

The only thing anyone really agreed on was that Raiden was a good mayor. That was, until the new farmer moved into town. It was at this point, everyone in town had banded together to come to one shared opinion.

The new farmer was weird.

Hanzo didn’t know what that meant. He hadn’t met the guy yet, and didn’t really intend to. All he really knew was the farmer’s name was Kuai Liang, and when he tried to enquire just why he was apparently so weird, no one seemed to be able to pinpoint what it was about him that made him so weird. He just was.

And according to Takeda, Cassie had a very in depth description of him.

“She says he has this massive scar on his face! And she says he only has one eye, and the other is just a socket!”

“I think Cassandra may be telling you a few tall tales there,” he tried to reply diplomatically. As cute as it was that Takeda was so taken by this embellished description of the man, he didn’t want the boy to be disappointed when he finally met him.

They stepped off the pathway and into the forest. It was a bit of a daily ritual for Hanzo, coming here and searching for the inspiration he needed. It wasn’t coming easily however. He had all but hit a complete block in terms of his writing. It had been 7 years since his last published work, 6 since the death of his family, 5 since he moved to the valley, and 2 since he began working on his latest book. In those 2 years, he’d barely written a quarter of the book.

He knew he had to get back into writing. While Harumi and Satoshi’s deaths would always haunt him, things had gotten easier to cope with, and he hoped with that lighter burden, writing would come back to him. But it had been slow. Despite the breathtaking beauty of the valley, that spark he once had was hard to find. So he went out every day, hoping to find something to ignite the fire inside him once more.

“Who’s that?” Takeda quietly questioned, snapping Hanzo back to reality. Hanzo followed the boy's gaze, to find a man crouched down staring at what looked like a spring onion growing in the ground.

He didn’t recognise the man, but the large scar over his one eye did rather line up with Cassandra’s description of Kuai Liang. He did still appear to have both eyes however, so it seemed the young girl was definitely exaggerating her story of him.

Kuai didn’t look like he’d noticed either of them. He began to dig around the spring onion, taking the stork and slowly pulling it up. He observed it for a few seconds, wiping off the remaining dirt. He stood up, smiling to himself and looking a little triumphant.

And then he took a huge bite of it.

Oh… That’s what everyone means…

Despite his shock, Hanzo coughed to get Kuai’s attention. Kuai jumped a mile as his head snapped toward Hanzo and Takeda. He looked like a deer in headlights, entire body frozen in spot and surprised that someone caught him out. He glanced between Hanzo and the spring onion. He swallowed, wiping his mouth with his hand and approaching them.

“I- Uh… I swear this isn’t as strange as it looks.” He hesitated, face starting to go red with embarrassment. Hanzo couldn’t blame him, he hadn’t exactly made the best first impression. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Kuai Liang.”

“You’re Kuai Liang?” Takeda loudly questioned, squinting at the man in front of him. “But you have two eyes!”

“Yes?” Kuai blinked in confusion, before frowning. “How many am I meant to have?”

“Cassie said you only had one!” Takeda crossed his arms over his chest. “Is one of them fake?”

“No. No, they’re both real and I definitely had both of them when I met Cassandra,” Kuai clarified, rubbing the back of his head. He brought the spring onion to his mouth again and took another bite. Oh my god, what is wrong with this man?

“I… Did warn you that Cassandra was likely lying to you,” Hanzo chose to tell Takeda instead of questioning the fact the man in front of them was quite happily just chowing down on a raw spring onion he found in the forest. “My apologies, my name is Hanzo Hasashi, and this is Takeda.”

“Oh, you live with Kenshi right?” Kuai asked, before looking at Takeda, “and you’re Kenshi’s son?” Hanzo nodded in response. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Hanzo gave an uneasy smile, watching as Kuai finished off the onion. That’s weird, that’s so weird. “So, you picked up that old abandoned farm?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot more run down than I initially thought, but I think I’ll get somewhere with it.” He smiled widely, and Hanzo had to admit, he looked adorable when he was smiling. It almost took away from the fact he just ate something he found on the floor. “I have a few vegetables and fruits growing so far.”

“Do you have cows?” Takeda asked, wide eyed, forgetting his previous disappointment.

“Ah, not yet. I would like some though,” Kuai claimed.

“When you get some, can I pet one?” Takeda was bouncing in place.

“Sure,” Kuai said with a crooked smile. “It might be a while, but you have my word, as soon as I get a cow, you may be the first to pet them.”

Takeda made an excited sounding squeal and Hanzo couldn’t help but smile. He had been here, when Takeda’s mother had died, and seen how it had affected the kid. Some days he didn’t even talk to his father, let alone anyone else. Seeing him excited about anything was a sign of healing.

And Kuai Liang may be the strangest man he’s ever met, but at least he seemed to be kind.

“Kenshi told me you’re an author,” Kuai enquired, turning his attention back to Hanzo while Takeda continued to bounce with joy and babble about cows.

“I am.” Hanzo didn’t really want to talk about that with anyone. Not that he wasn’t proud of his work, more that he was upset about his current progress. “I’ve hit a bit of a block lately, however.”

“I know how that feels,” Kuai muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. Hanzo didn’t have a chance to question what he meant because Kuai continued with, “well, the valley is absolutely beautiful, I imagine there must be some inspiration hiding around here somewhere.”

“I imagine so too, just a case of looking for it.” He’d been looking for it for two years. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep looking for something so elusive. “Still, we should probably leave you to uh… whatever it was you were actually doing.”

“I was just foraging for things,” Kuai admitted, looking over to where he’d dug up the spring onion. “I don’t know why I ate it… It tasted nice though, so at least the wild vegetables are good quality.”

“Sure,” Hanzo reluctantly agreed. Whatever helps you sleep at night. “I wish you luck with your foraging. Try not to eat anything else you find on the floor.”

Kuai gave a sheepish smile, “I will do my best not to.” He paused for a moment, before adding “please feel free to stop by the farm, if you like. It’s not much at the moment, but I wouldn’t mind visitors.”

“I’ll consider it,” Hanzo replied. He knew Takeda would definitely love to go see the farm even without the cows. Hanzo should probably accompany him, just so he didn’t risk outstaying his welcome.

Kuai gave them both a small wave, before turning back to the forest, and disappearing between the trees. Hanzo wondered if the spring onion incident really was just a spur of the moment thing, or if he was trying to save face at being caught.

Still he supposed that didn’t really matter. He turned to Takeda who was still looking extremely excited.

“So? Was he what you imagined?” Hanzo questioned as he started back on the trail, Takeda practically skipping by his side.

“Nope!” The bluntness of the statement caught Hanzo off guard and he couldn’t help but snort. “But he’s still cool, in a different way. I can’t wait until he gets a cow!”

Hanzo laughed, “I’m sure he’s excited for it too.”

He glanced over in the direction Kuai had gone off in. He could just about make the man out, bending down to pick something up. This time however, he slipped his backpack onto his shoulder and put it inside. Least he’s not just eating everything he finds, I guess.

He could see what the others meant. He was strange, but it wasn’t threatening in any way. Almost endearing, if he was honest. Hanzo still had no real intent to be anything more than passing acquaintances, but he could imagine sitting down and having a few pints with him. Anything more could distract him further from his goal of writing, and he couldn’t risk that. He needed to stay focused, and he wasn’t going to let himself be pulled away by the admittedly intriguing new farmer.

He took a breath, and turned away to continue his quest for inspiration.

[paradoxcase]

I saw Barbie a few days ago. Thoughts:

The actresses who play the barbies seem to be more diverse (especially in terms of body diversity) than actual IRL barbies. Ordinarily more diversity in movie casts are good, but in this case I feel like it's sort of falsely advertising diversity in barbie dolls that doesn't exist, which is, I think, bad. As far as I'm aware, there are currently only four different barbie body shapes, which are all pretty thin and the only difference seems to be that they can't all wear each other's clothes anymore, and what is even the point of owning barbies if they can't all wear each other's clothes?

There also are barbies with flat feet. I know that they exist because I owned one when I was a kid, and I specifically remember because it was very annoying because she couldn't wear any of my massive hoard of existing barbie clothes. It's so funny to me that they bring out all those discontinued and canceled barbies, but never mention that there were barbies with flat feet, especially considering that they used the whole flat feet thing as a plot point

It seemed like in the first half of the movie they were setting Mattel up to be the bad guys, which was actually an idea I really liked, but then at some point they transitioned into being harmless comic relief, which also feels a bit like propaganda. Like, haha, they haven't had a female CEO for 30 years, tee hee, how funny! Let's just forget about all that, it's not important, the real problem here is obviously Ken

Somehow the message of this movie winds up being "we need more barbies representing normal people instead of people with big kickass careers" when that's not remotely the biggest issue with barbie, I don't think

I did like Weird Barbie, and how she was used in the movie, and it was kind of fun overall, a nice bit of nostalgia, and pretty funny generally

I did not know that the creator of Barbie shared my first name. I never see characters with this name in movies, so I figured she had to be a real person and not a character invented for the film, but it was actually cool to find out she was actually the creator

[gretagerwigsmuse]

ahhh thank you so much abby! i always love seeing which parts people pick out as their favorites 🤭 they're both so excited to just get away, just the two of them for an entire 10 days - even with all the stuff going on in her head? i think it says a lot about them as a couple that he's waiting for her to tell him what's wrong before he says something? but in the meantime he's going to make her feel so loved and cared for and be his regular sweet self 🤭 i loved adding the scene with mav and penny and amelia, it really rounded the chapter out in terms of bradley's homecoming and i just love this little family unit they have now (also including her dad and mary ofc!). and i'm glad, but also sad how realistic they are in some sense 🥺 but i think the body insecurities are something so many people go through no matter their size, so it's an appropriate challenge to work through together! thanks again and full responses below 💕

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. IM ALREADY CRYING 😭 going through a major crisis of confidence here. like the navy isn't his center anymore, she is? but he knows it's only like that to the two of them?

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. SIRRRRRR THE SWITCH??? from needing to cuddle her to THIS? Deceased. pls he's so desperate for her like he's actually the pathetic one even tho he calls her that haha

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” I love them so much they're too cute your honor 😭😭😭 hehe i love making them so mushy and lovey dovey like they totally deserve it

That tattoo gets me Every time my heart breaks every time it's just...it's really sad because he felt so strongly about this that he got a permanent reminder on his arm? like it's something he can see all the time? and the way she knows when to focus on it and give it attention and love exactly when he needs it absolutely gets me too? and the fact that he told her about it so soon in their relationship? sighhhh

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.” 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 hehe 🤭 older boyfriend bradley reporting for duty sir 🫡

Him making her an audiobook I'm dead. Not just because that's hot as hell, but also the fact he wants to do research into the dynamic and make it right/good for her????? Like???! Bradley Bradshaw, the man that you are!!! like it's something that's new for both of them? in the sense that it's a named thing, a named dynamic? sure, bradley's naturally dominant and in control when he's had sex, but her? she's never been like this with anyone else and bradley doesn't take that lightly, like he knows this is a big deal and it's a massive responsibility, but he likes that? and he likes that he can be that presence for her?

God, he would love missionary for how close it lets him be. A romantic at heart! I love him. Also love how he's obsessed with her tits like yes girl, get it! eye contact is huuuuuuge like he needs to see how she's coming apart under him, what effect he's having on her, he wants to see every one of her reactions and little tells

This fic is making me feel much better about gaining some weight, thank you for your service and thank you for saying this, truly. i think it's something everyone goes through no matter what size they are and no matter how loved they are? one little comment can really set you off on a spiral and i'm just trying to make what she's going through as realistic as possible, even if it hurts

She's dimming the light?! Baby girl he loves you, he loves your body!!! 😭😭 I feel for her, I feel her so hard. Also I really love that you gave her a struggle that so many of us have gone through. Like your insecurities don't just magically vanish when you're in a loving relationship, it takes time and work and I know Smart Aleck will get there! yes! the lights thing is super common too? and if you look back at the chapter, the only time she gets fully naked in front of him is when they're in the shower and the lights are low? and he realizes she's going to get there and that she has to get there herself?

Stop shaking the thought away Bradley! God, he's so close, so freaking close to figuring it out!!! And in a way I like that it takes him time because that's realistic but I still want to shake them both. he is soo close and i think part of him doesn't want to complete the thought because he just doesn't believe it? he doesn't believe that this girl he loves so much and is so smart and kind and funny and beautiful thinks she's not enough?

Her not knowing what to wear 😭😭 God this is hitting me so hard. And Bradley is just trying to be supportive!! Honestly surprised I haven't cried yet because I feel her so much and then fast forward to the next chapter when he actually verbalizes his thoughts about her beautiful clothes and how she needs to wear them and that now he's more authoritative in telling her what to wear?

You've also convinced me that yes, Maverick is Bradley's dad. I love that smart Aleck has a relationship with him as well! it's just sweet, you know? like bradley has this family and support system that invites him over for dinner and coddles him and make sure he eats and is actually doing well? and then in turn bradley's like STOP UNINTENTIONALLY FLIRTING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND

Bradley's right, if I met a 30 year old man who went by Teddy, it would be an immediate red flag. Also the way he's so protective of her and Amelia?! My heart can't take much more Jordan 😭😭 right?? like i wanted to keep it that he's still teddy? not edward, but teddy? like fucking teddy is such an asshole and bradley actually meets him over thanksgiving! but also yes his last name is after a certain supreme court justice...

THE PHONE SEX?!?!?! JORDAN ELIZABETH (idk your middle name, I'm just inserting one bc holy shit that was hot and entirely too short God, do they need a third??? Asking for a friend). hehe 🤭 i had so much fun with that and it was definitely not something i was thinking of including at first!!

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. THE WAY HE IS SO DESPERATE AND NEEDY FOR HER JORDAN I AM FERAL. FERAL! hehe 🤭 he needs her so badly. like he is the opposite of cool throughout this entire scene. like she's barely through the door in her slightly too small work dress and he's like i need to fuck you right now or i'll die lol

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. OH MY GOD ITS THIS SCENE THE ONE YOU TALKED ABOUT THE TIGHTS!!!! HAHAHA he's like i need to fuck this out of you and me and sink inside you and claim you right the fuck now. and you know what? she loved it

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Jake, that sounds like a personal problem my dude. - like sorry your girlfriend isn't rich, buddy! like that's not bradley's fault! have fun at some janky all inclusive resort, bradley will be at the four season/white lotus in the pineapple suite

rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

Summary: finally back home, bradley can focus on all the things he's missed while he's been gone. there's someone there to properly welcome him home, frantic reunion sex, prepping for an amazing vacation, family dinners, and the casual intimacy he's come to love between the two of you. but there's still something up with you and he can't quite figure it out. it'll be fine, right? catch up with [part 1] and [part 2]

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, body insecurity, suggestive dialogue, suggestive content, and sexual content (oral (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). also on ao3!

i want to be naked, i don’t mean my body, i don’t need my body i’m floating away

Bradley startled awake sometime later. It happened sometimes. He had these dreams were it felt like he was falling. Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. 

That wasn’t to say that they were necessarily nightmares or anything. (Because the distinction between the two was glaringly obvious.) 

They just unnerved him a bit. Left him unsettled, untethered. 

He rolled over and stretched his arm out across the bed, until his fingers brushed against something silky. Something warm and silky. He turned his head to find you sprawled out next to him.

You had changed between now and when Bradley had last seen you - he glanced at the clock on his nightstand - seven hours ago. 

Fuck. 

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. 

Goddammit, he felt like an asshole. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen, especially after what you two talked about earlier that evening. 

You’d give us your wild? Of course. Of course, of course, of course he would. 

Like you knew he was thinking about you, you shifted your hips, inching closer towards him. Your body was only half under the thick duvet cover and top sheet, so even in the early morning light he could still see the navy nightie you were wearing. 

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. 

Tonight, the night three months in the making, he had missed cuddling and kissing and all the best parts of getting cozy in bed with you because he had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. And sure, he had gotten a taste of what was to come on the couch while you laid underneath him and drew imaginary shapes across his chest with your finger and he held you tight and counted your heartbeats. 

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. 

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. 

There was a future with you. There was that little boy - or little girl - from your dream. The perfect mix of you and Bradley. 

(Don’t ever be a Rocket Man. I mean it. 

When you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. 

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

Suddenly, there was this overwhelming urge inside him that if he didn’t touch you and have you in his arms, that he’d slip away, back to space. Untethered. 

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. 

Bradley scooted over towards your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around you, unable to bear another moment untethered. There, that was better. You were soft and warm and felt so precious in his arms. And with your nightie rucked up around your hips and one leg extended out and the other hiked up, your body was on full display. 

Easy access.

Your thighs were so fucking soft and curvy and he desperately wanted to slot himself right between them. Have them bracket his head, while his tongue lapped at your pretty pussy. 

Would he start there? Eat you out until you were begging for his cock? Have you grind on his lap…until you were begging for his cock? Or…just generally begging for his cock? 

They all seemed appealing, but admittedly kissing you until you were breathless and then rocking his body above yours until you were both tumbling over the edge had plenty of merit, too. Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. 

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. 

But that brought him back to the present. Could he wake you up, now? Bradley knew you’d been stressed and busy ever since your mom had come to town and because of all you’d confessed earlier; so, would it be fair to wake you? You hadn’t woken him up, afterall.

After an indeterminate amount of time of just holding you and watching you breathe, you rolled your bare ass against Bradley’s crotch and let out a pleased hum. He gave your hip a squeeze and you burrowed even deeper in his arms. Your skin was softer than the silk nightie you were wearing and he could feel the heat pouring off your body.

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck. 

Once you were a little more lucid and opened your eyes, you pulled your nightie down to cover your ass, though that didn’t stop Bradley from playing with the lace hem. 

You rolled over so you were now face to face and wrapped your right leg around his left. 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

You cupped his cheek. “Wanted you to sleep, you looked so tired. Pretty too.” 

It was dark in the room at five thirty-eight, but not completely pitch black, so Bradley could still make out your soft features. You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. 

But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.

“Well,” he kissed your forehead then your nose, “I’m still sorry, especially after what we talked about earlier, should’ve stayed up for you.” 

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” 

He hitched your right leg higher over his hip and groaned when he could feel your core through his joggers. You squirmed against him, cheeky little thing. But with his joggers and t-shirt still on, Bradley was definitely overheated and the sweat was building at the back of his neck, to say nothing about the heat your body was giving off. 

As if reading his mind, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragged your fingers up his stomach, stopping at both his happy trail and then the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, before taking the t-shirt off completely. A soft thud rang out when you’d thrown it across the room and it presumably landed on the floor. 

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. 

“Been dying to all night - hips up, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley arched his back and helped you slide his joggers down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. Your gaze lingered on his body for a long moment, but you just gave him a coy little smile. 

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” 

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!” 

“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” 

He pinched your side and you wiggled away from him with a shriek. “Uh uh, not so fast.” 

Bradley pulled you close again, desperate to be nearer to you. You tangled your legs together and pointed your torso towards his, but remained perched on your elbow, while he was laying down flat.  

Suddenly somber, your eyes were drawn back to his body and he just let you look - drink him in and see what you had missed over the last few months. Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line. 

Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?

He could feel your eyes lingering on his abs. Normally, you remarked on his thighs and shoulders, but tonight it seemed you had a different focus. You appeared hesitant, biting your lip, as you dragged your finger across his stomach. 

Did you like how he looked - how he had changed in your time apart?

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. 

Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” 

You appeared bashful at the comment, which just let Bradley know he’d have to give you more of them over the next few weeks. “Come ‘ere.” Without waiting for a response, Bradley started pressing kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your neck, your lips. If it was possible at this point, he drew your body even closer.

“Bra-adley! We have an entire bed here, you know?” You giggled when he rubbed his nose into your neck.

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

You scooched down on the bed on your stomach so you were looking up at him. With a smile, you began to press languid kisses across his chest, starting just above his belly-button and creeping up to his pecs, heart, and shoulders. You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.

But tonight, it seemed you had a different path in mind and, while you still nipped at his shoulder, you didn’t stop there and instead went straight to the small tattoo on his bicep. You traced your fingers across the roman numerals:

x x x i x

Thirty-nine. 

As in thirty-nine years old. An age neither of his parents ever got to see. 

Bradley had gotten the tattoo when he was in flight school and a bit of a shit with self destructive tendencies. People never really asked what it meant and he never really wanted to tell anyone. 

He’d told Ezra, right around the time when they first started talking about moving in together, before that spectacularly failed. He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.

Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. 

It was the second time you’d slept together. Because while your first time had been frantic and had taken you both by surprise (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom), the second time was much slower - softer. 

You had planned the date this time. Bradley had picked you up at your apartment - he even had come upstairs to get you - with flowers - and the two of you had dinner at Callie, followed by a performance at the San Diego Symphony. It was actually thanks to one of Bradley’s fun facts about playing the piano that you had gotten the idea. 

Both of you had gotten dressed up (a big departure from your third date hike in Torrey Pines), the food and drinks had been plentiful and delicious, and listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.

So, after eating you out on your kitchen counter and going two rounds in bed, Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. 

And if you had asked Bradley, it was after that date that he knew he was going to fall in love with you. 

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. 

And because he had told you what the tattoo meant, it made the moments since when you’d really focus and hone in on it all the more sweeter. During this last deployment, Bradley had often felt like the ink was burning into his skin under his flight-suit. It kept reminding him that he had once thought he had a timeline or a stopwatch on his bicep, slowly ticking down. But with you, it was something to strive towards, to reach beyond and be there for LIX, LXXXIX, and even XCIX. 

“What’s it like flying at night?” Your question snapped him out of his thoughts and you pressed another kiss to his tattoo to calm him. “I kept thinking about it on my flight to London. And how you must see this all the time, is it still a big deal? Can you even stop and think about it? Just endless night with thousands of stars to guide you? Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing around for hundreds of miles.”

(What’s it like, out in space?

It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things - oh, it’s really nothing at all. 

But you always go back.)

“You’d never thought about it before?” his voice came out thick, hoarse. 

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not in that way, I guess? I couldn’t sleep on the way to London, so I pulled up the shade in the middle of the night. I’ve never really thought to do it before, don’t know why - but then I saw all those stars, endless stars, thousands of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your finger stopped tracing patterns on his arm for a moment before it started again. “And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” 

Bradley felt like he was going to cry, the feeling swept over him so suddenly. “I uhh - fuck.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you sounded contrite, “I just wanted you to know.”

Could he tell you? Could he tell you that flying at night with all the stars in the sky simultaneously made him feel closer to and yet farther away from his parents? It was like they were right there, but also so far out of reach. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t say any of that, not now. The words couldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled you closer, putting your face at level with his own. “I love you.”

You smiled and he could’ve sworn there were tears in your eyes, but it was hard to make out in the darkness. “I love you, too. Now please kiss me.”

Bradley let out a chuckle, but leaned in to kiss you without another word. The kiss was sweet, but still had an underlying desperation attached to it that came with being away for months. But unlike every other kiss you’d shared since Bradley had gotten home, there was no need to stop or to prevent it from going further. No, now you were his. He could have you however he wanted.

Not breaking the kiss, you shifted and bracketed your thighs on either side of his hips, allowing him to slide his hands up your body. He’d never get tired of thinking it, but god, you were so fucking soft. Your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your hands, your lips - actually…

His next words were grunted against your neck. “Your lips are really soft - softer than normal,” he finished when you went to interrupt him. 

“Must be my lip mask. I put it on after I saw that you fell asleep on me…”

“Hey, hey,” he tickled your sides and you collapsed on his chest amidst your giggles, “I said you should’ve woken me up!”

“Would you have woken me up?” You had him there. “See? This way I could stare at you uninterrupted and get all moony over you. Plus, now isn’t this better? No more sleepy bubs.”

No. He was definitely awake now. And from where your core was laid on his bare stomach, he could already feel how wet your were and couldn’t wait to slip inside you. 

“‘Could kiss you for hours,” you said against his lips. You kissed him - once, twice, ten times, smiling all the while. He never wanted you to stop. “Bradley,” you whined, “Need you inside me. Gotta get used to you again. ‘m so tight.” You nipped his earlobe. 

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You preened under the praise. Because it surely had to have been a bit of a challenge. “Yours are so much bigger, though.” Bradley rolled his eyes at your cheeky tone. “What’re you gonna think up for me to do next time you’re gone? Like what you talked about earlier?” You didn’t linger too much on the next time part of your question, so he didn’t either.

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I’d have to do more research, but like you have to wear xyz or send me a picture of you doing something? Whatever we want.”

You nuzzled his neck. “Mmmmm, I like that. Wish we could really talk when you’re gone, though. I’m not sure I could handle every comms officer hearing what I need from you again…”

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”

Your jaw dropped and you contorted your body to look up at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

His cheeks colored. “I mean, not like an actual one, but like a voice memo or something?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it did in his head. “If you wanted…”

“Oh my god, yes! I very much do want.”

Without another word, Bradley rolled you both over so now he was on top, knees bracketing your hips so as to not put his full weight on you. Your nightie was still covering your stomach and breasts, but that didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath the navy silk to play with them. They felt fuller than normal - not that he was complaining, but he hadn’t noticed earlier and now -

His cock brushed against your stomach in a way that had you bucking up against him, so desperate, so keen, so fucking good. Good girl. Your lips were eager against his as you poured every thought, every email, every Facetime call into your kiss. 

God, it had been so long. Fooling around on the couch earlier in the evening paled in comparison to how plump your lips felt and how keenly your body reacted to his. Because you felt so good. Months, weeks, days had passed and Bradley had never felt anything as good as your body beneath his. 

You sighed and squirmed up the bed so your head was laid across the pillows, all the while Bradley made his way down the bed. 

“More, bubs, please.” 

How could he refuse, especially when you had asked so nicely? He bent forward to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips before working his way down your body, from your neck and collarbones, to your breasts through your nightie, and finally to right below your belly-button. From there, you readily allowed him to bend your knees so your feet were planted firmly on the bed and your core was completely exposed to him. 

Even in the early morning light it was exquisite. You had the prettiest pussy Bradley had ever seen - and it was his, all his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” 

You startled at the first touch of his lips on your thighs, but let out the prettiest little sigh when he sucked on the skin by your birthmark. There was another as he licked along one of your lightning lines. And another as he kissed the hood of your clit. 

God, you smelled so fucking good and were groomed just the way he liked it -  like the perfect, obedient, good girl that you were. And perfect, obedient, good girls got their pussy played with until they were babbling like dumb little sluts.

“- Would have thought this would be your first stop?”

Bradley chuckled, but didn’t stop dragging his fingers across your inner thighs and lower lips. “Yeah? What, d’you think I’d do? Just dive right in? Take you on the kitchen table?”

“I would’ve let you.”

Once the words had sunk in, he stopped teasing you. His elbows gave out beneath him and he groaned with his face pressed against the sheets. Fuck. That was a conversation for another time, but just the thought of you letting Bradley basically use you had him grinding his hips into the mattress.

You were so good. 

He popped his head back up and slapped you - lightly - across your pussy. “You keep saying shit like that and next time I just might.”

In response, you arched your back and tried to close your legs around his head, but Bradley just tutted and spread them further.

“Uh-uh, need to have a look at her, I've gone three months without her.” Your hips jumped off the mattress as his fingers started playing with you, tracing circles over and dipping in and out of your cunt. “‘pretty pussy. She took such good care of you while I was gone, didn’t she? Look at you dripping for me, huh?”

His fingers scissored inside of you, dragging against your walls, while his thumb needled your clit. Your wetness spread across his fingers and he, in turn, spread it across your folds and inner thighs. He liked when you were messy. He liked to feel you all over his face.

“Bradley,” you whined. “Stop teasing.”

Neither of you really wanted that, so it didn’t even merit a response from him. Instead, he kept sliding his fingers inside you in and out, in and out and crooked them ever so slightly before he added a third. Above him, you gasped and jolted. 

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -

“- Bradley…” He peered up to see that you had one arm over your eyes, while the other was pawing at your breasts through your nightie.

“God, you’re sucking on my fingers so tight, I would believe you’ve taken anything up this pretty pussy in months.”

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…” 

“Where?” his voice was muffled. Bradley sucked his lips around your thigh, right by your labia, but refrained from kissing you were you wanted him most. He wanted to mark you up everywhere, have your thighs and breasts and neck covered in little bites and bruises. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Good. Good. Good. 

You whined. It sounded pathetic and he had barely even started. “My pussy. Please, Bradley? Please?”

Who was he to deny you? Because, god, you tasted so fucking good. It was hard not to absolutely devour you, especially after going for so long without you. Bradley slid his hands down from your hips to grab your ass and rut your cunt deeper against his face. As a reward, he got a slew of pretty little whimpers out of you.

He continued at a steady pace, alternating between probing your clit and slipping his tongue inside you. Above him, you arched your back and he pressed a firm hand on your stomach to keep you down. 

“Bradley,” you cried as you rode his face. 

God, you sounded so pretty now, he couldn’t wait to get you on his cock later. 

Pretty girl. 

Smart girl. 

Good girl. 

His girl with a body like Aphrodite. 

“Ahhh - fuc - ahhh.” You made that sound and he knew, without even looking up, that your head was tipped back in pleasure and you were close. “Bubs,” your voice came out small, “want you - inside me, now.”

“Uh-uh.” Bradley pulled his head back, but continued fingering you. “You need to come first.” 

Come on his face. 

You shook your head frantically against the pillow. “No.” You gasped when he purposely plunged his fingers deeper. “‘wanna with you - ahh inside me.”

Somehow you grabbed the hand he had pressed on your stomach and you dragged it up your body. His knuckles brushed against the silk of your nightie until you eventually pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your interlocked fingers. And all Bradley could do was say your name in censure, which ultimately came out heavy with need.

“Please? Want it to be together our first time back.” You whined pitifully. “Haven’t touched myself in days.”

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. 

“Fine,” he smacked your thigh, “but I’m gonna make you come again after I finish inside you.”

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

You would be spent and whiny by then, it wouldn’t be hard. 

After swirling his fingers once more around in your cum, Bradley held his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean them off. “That good?” You hummed around the digits before he retracted them and tapped your cheek twice. “Atta girl.”

Next, he shifted up on the bed so his knees were straddling your waist. He was achingly hard at this point and bit back a smile as you made grabby hands for his cock. It pulsed in your grasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Fuck, that felt divine. While you may have relished how much larger his fingers were than yours, Bradley loved how large his cock looked in your smaller hands. However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” Your eyes were wide and you nodded. 

Trusting, needy, desperate. Such a perfect girl for him. 

“Wanna be full.”

He brushed the head of his cock against your pussy lips, making sure it was nice and wet and, god, you were fucking soaked and practically sucked him in. You whimpered and muttered something indistinguishable, but wrapped your arms around his shoulders and canted your hips up for more. Then, once Bradley slipped just the tip of his cock inside you, you gasped, but brought him closer. Your nails dug into his shoulders, hopefully pressing little crescents into the skin. He pulled back and slid in again, inch by inch, earning a breathy gasp from you every time. 

Holyfuckingshit. You were so tight. So fucking tight, even after prepping you with his tongue and fingers. 

Yours are so much bigger, though your voice echoed through his head. 

You were so fucking soft and warm and wet and felt perfect around him. With each thrust he’d grunt out your name and you in turn would give a whiny Bradley and eventually wrapped your legs around his hips. And then you were also clenching down on him like you’d spent the entire three months doing kegel exercises. 

“Fuck, you made me so hard - thinking about how much of a good girl you were while I was away, keeping this nice and tight for me,” he barely got the words out. 

“‘do anything for - for you. ‘d let you do anything to - mmhmm - me,” you finished with a whimper. 

Fuck. Your unwavering trust in Bradley always took him aback. Because you meant it. You really would let him do anything to you. If you had the slightest inclination that it would please him, you would do it. He had never had someone who trusted him that much. And that wasn’t something he took lightly. 

With that thought in mind, he snapped his hips against yours in a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out. 

“Mmm harder.”

He bent down to suck on your neck. This - the closeness - was why he liked missionary so much. It was perfect for this exact moment. There was plenty of time to take you hard and fast later.

“Oh, god. Feel so full - Bradley, Bra - Bradley!” With every utterance of his name, he drove deeper inside you. Harder inside you. You’d ride him next time, he’d make sure of it. But for now, breathing each other’s air, gasping against each other’s mouth, and feeling the sweat on each other’s brow, being so impossibly close to each other, it was hard to say where Bradley’s soul ended and yours started. 

Yours and mine are the same. 

He groaned your name and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him with an almost dazed expression. Grabbing the back of your knee, Bradley went in at a different angle, trying to get deeper. “Feel how much your little hole’s dripping? Just needed me to stretch you out again.”

“Mmmmm yes, yes, da-dley - ahhhh,” you cried out, “can I come? Please, please?”

Oh, you were such a good girl for him. Asking so nicely, so prettily. So properly. Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but -

“‘Course. There you go, sweetheart, come on my cock like a good girl.”

When you finally came a few moments later, it was with a strangled cry of his name that Bradley swore was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in months. As the shudder of pleasure swept over you and you tightened your core around him, Bradley hastened to find his own release. The slew of cries and whimpers against his lips as you tried to settle down only spurred him on further. He drove into you again and again and again. 

He had to get there with you - had to. You clung to him and notched your head by his neck, only to graze your lips along the tender skin there and bite. 

“Fuck,” he grunted. “‘You ready for me to come inside you, sweetheart? Know how much you missed it.”

You nodded against his neck. “Yes,” you whispered, “Bradley, please…”

He groaned your name. It sounded so good like that, so perfect. He had to say it again and again and again. With each stroke, your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him, pulling him towards his own orgasm. His jaw clenched and his back muscles tightened and Bradley could barely support his own weight over you for another moment - 

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was it. That did it. 

With a final moan of your name, Bradley came inside you, painting your pussy with his cum. His cocked twitched one final time as the last streams of cum filled you up. He notched his head against your shoulder and he breathed in your sweet scent. 

Goddamn. 

Once he settled down and caught his breath sometime later, he moved to pull out, knowing that when he did so, both your cum would drip down your thighs. Your gorgeous, thick thighs. He already needed to get lost in them again. And wasn’t that just the thing? Bradley was obsessed with you. He could never get enough of you.

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered. 

He stopped and pulled you closer, but slightly changed your position. There was some perverse part of him that wanted to make a comment about keeping you on his cock for the rest of the morning so you could get used to him again, but he refrained after thinking about the tone of your voice. You sounded so fucking good and docile and submissive. Such a good girl. 

“Pretty sure you owe me another one…” You burrowed your head against his neck and moaned when he shifted. “How ‘bout I stay inside you? ‘That okay?” You nodded and your pussy tightened against him. “Good girl.”

Keeping you close, Bradley slid one hand in between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. You arched your back up towards him, trying in vain to get closer, though that was nigh impossible - the two of you were already as close as two people could be. 

Yours and mine are the same.

He needled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth, trying to get some moans and whines out of you. God, your body felt unreal. Still so warm around him, still so wet for him. All for him. 

Mine, mine, mine. 

As your body shifted, your pebbled nipples brushed against his bare chest and Bradley was remiss for not playing more attention to them earlier. But that could’ve been because you were still wearing that goddamn nightie. You were flustered and warm and your skin was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat. 

He bent his head down and mouthed at your breasts through the midnight blue silk. They were already hardened to peaks, desperate to be suckled on, especially after noting their new size. There would be time for that later, he had to remind himself. 

For now, he nipped at the top of your cleavage and kept playing with your clit. You were so oversensitive, you were practically shaking in his arms. And in response, you raked your hands through Bradley’s hair, pulling on the strands. Fuck him. That felt divine, especially as he felt you tighten around him. 

“Brad-ley,” you whimpered, “’s too much.”

“Shhh, easy, easy, there’s no rush.” He tipped your chin up. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head. “Take a deep breath. That's it. Good girl.”

Little whimpers kept escaping your mouth, but you burrowed your face against his neck and trusted him to take care of you. You nipped at the skin there and he hoped it would leave a mark; let everyone know that he was yours and only yours for the next few weeks. 

Mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve got to take care of you, you were such a good girl while I was gone. My best girl, huh?”

“Mmmm.”

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”

And that did it. 

So proud of you.

You came with a cry and your walls fluttered around his cock once again. A sudden gush of wetness coated both yours and Bradley’s thighs. God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses. There were tears in your eyes and he thumbed them away before they could slide down your beautiful face.

“Hey, too much?” He kissed your cheeks, which unfortunately only made more tears spring from your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” 

“No, no,” you shook your head, “I just missed you so much, think I’m overwhelmed,” you finished sheepishly. 

The tension in Bradley’s shoulders eased and he smiled down at you. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, kid.”

“I love you.” The words came out quietly, but it was like they’d only just come out of your mouth before Bradley was saying them back. 

“Love you, too.” The smile he got out of you warmed his heart and he pecked your lips before tucking your head under his chin.

The two of you laid there for some time with Bradley still inside you. In fact, he was pretty certain you may have dozed off at one point, but he didn’t want you to be too uncomfortable when you woke up later. With that in mind, he slowly pulled out and settled you on the bed beside him. You fussed a little, but Bradley kissed your forehead, heading it off. 

He started with your name, “I’ll be right back, okay? Going to the bathroom.” You nodded at him, your eyes wide and trusting. 

It was chilly out of bed, away from you, and Bradley only paused for a brief moment to slip on a pair of his sleep shorts from the dresser, before heading off to the bathroom to get a damp towel for you. He hastened back to the bedroom, now almost fully lit in the early morning light. You made such a pretty picture all tucked under the thick, white duvet. 

“Bradley?” You stretched out underneath the covers and let out a little whimper. “‘m sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said with your special nickname tacked on the end. “Come ‘ere.” Despite his words, he came to you and dutifully cleaned you up with the warm cloth. 

“‘s not your fault,” you slurred, “need to get used to it again. Missed you.”

The cloth passed over your thighs once, twice, three times, before Bradley brushed it against your core once, twice, three times. You sighed and gave him a lazy smile, which he easily returned. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Be right back,” he whispered. 

You’d barely managed to get back under the covers by the time he came back from the bathroom. And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. 

“I missed being with you like this, missed holding you.”

You pressed lazy kisses to his chest for a moment before you eventually tipped your head up to meet his eyes. “Can we stay like this? Just for a while? Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“‘Course,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

--------------

When Bradley woke hours later, he did so slowly. He was pleasantly warm, he was finally sleeping on a true mattress, and you were slotted between his legs sucking his cock. 

Surely, there were few better ways to wake up than to have your sweet lips wrapped around him. It wasn’t something you did often, at least in terms of waking Bradley up this way, but he loved whenever you took the initiative. It showed how eager you were - how desperate. Really, the only thing that could top it would be your pussy sunk deep on his cock as you rode him.

You had to have been at it for a while, for he was achingly hard by this point. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth and you let out a surprised moan, no doubt having thought he was still sleeping, before taking him further. Your tight grip on his thighs left him relatively grounded, else he would have set off a round of those gagging noises from you that he liked so much. That wet mouth that he liked so much - fuck. 

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. 

And you kept at it with Bradley’s hand grabbing your hair and guiding you. You kept working him, forcing him deeper down your throat. He moaned and you responded back in kind. Such a good mouth, such a good girl, taking care of him like this. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it, but he was mumbling your name, almost nonsensically. 

But then he felt, rather than saw, you remove one of your hands from his thighs to presumably put it between your legs to play with your needy pussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck. Get up here,” he said and then punctuated it with a growl of your name when you stayed down. The whimper you let out had him bucking his hips up off the mattress. “I’m serious.��

Almost begrudgingly, you eased him out of your mouth and the resulting, wet pop echoed throughout the bedroom. You looked far too pleased with yourself as you sucked on your finger - the one that had definitely been shoved up your pussy only moments ago - and hummed in response. 

“Get up here - now.”

You braced yourself on either side of Bradley’s hips and teasingly brushed your pussy against his aching cock a couple times, practically begging for him to sink inside you. It would be so easy for you to ride him right now, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Bossy, bossy,” you teased and crept up his body, pressing kisses to his happy trail and chest along the way. But just as you were about to kiss him on the lips, he stopped you.

“Uh uh.” He stuck his finger in the air and mimed a circle. “Turn around.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Are you…” Again, just Bradley twirled his finger around and smiled. “F-fine.” 

“But,” at this you relaxed your thighs to press more of your weight on his stomach, “you have to take this off,” he finished by thumbing the navy fabric of your nightie. 

It only took a moment for the smile to creep across your face, but you didn’t take your eyes off Bradley’s as you slid the dainty straps off your shoulders, one at a time. You didn’t take the nightie off, it still covered all of your stomach, but it let Bradley ogle your breasts unimpeded for a moment. 

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” 

And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.

“Now turn around.” 

You rolled your eyes, but managed to turn around with Bradley’s assistance. The brief awkwardness of limbs strewn about was easily forgotten as soon as you got into position and he was rewarded with the sight of your glistening pussy in front of his face.

Bradley didn’t bother holding back a moan and started kneading your ass and running his fingers along your lower spine. Meanwhile, you wiggled down his body, dragging your breasts against his bare skin for the first time all morning. They were so soft, but your nipples were pebbled as they brushed against his stomach. He hissed when you lingered there for a moment to tease him.

Not one to let you get the upper hand, Bradley grabbed your hips to draw you close to his face and inhaled your sweet scent. Fuck. You were so good. You let out a mewl and startled when he first made contact with his tongue and then attempted to nose at your clit. That always got you going. Same with his mustache against the tender skin at the apex of your thighs. Maybe he would abstain from shaving on vacation, if only you’d ask.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groaned your name against your skin and then he feasted. 

Meanwhile, the way your hands were playing with his balls right now had him already teetering towards an orgasm. After only being able to fantasize about having your hands on him - your sweet, delicate hands on him - for the last three months, this felt divine. And then you put your mouth on him and he was well and truly done for.

“Fuck.” 

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

--------------

After your depravity filled wake up call, the rest of the morning took on a decidedly more chaste tone. The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.

It was finally around noon when Bradley said you two needed a shower and to have breakfast before embarking on the rest of the day’s activities, which included a tour of the house, complete with all the little goodies you’d amassed for him over the last couple months that he had glossed over last night, and getting ready for drinks with Nat, Caroline, and Max at six-thirty. Granted, the latter was six hours away, but Bradley had a feeling you both would be pretty slow to the take that afternoon. Probably would get a little distracted, too.

“‘m gonna take a shower,” his lips brushed kisses up and down your arms and over your once again silk clad breasts and he was rewarded with giggles, “you wanna come with me?”

“Oh!? Uhh - yeah, we could take a shower.” You pecked him on the lips. “Can you warm it up first, please?”

The pout worked - it always did - but Bradley still groaned, totally hamming it up. “Mmmm, I suppose...”

With one final kiss, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on with a snap, going for full brightness on the dimmer, and turned around to give you a cheeky wink, only to see you worrying your lip between your teeth and staring intently down at your clasped hands on top of the duvet. He called your name and your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“You good?”

You nodded and put a smile on your face. “Yeah, be right in.”

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. 

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights. 

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen. 

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down. 

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts. 

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.  

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.  

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?” 

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much. 

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again. 

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them. 

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.” 

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles. 

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe. 

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek. 

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?” 

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.” 

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast. 

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change. 

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail. 

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.” 

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten. 

“This would look nice.” 

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them. 

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win. 

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done. 

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute. 

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it. 

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco. 

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges. 

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.” 

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.” 

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?” 

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.” 

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded. 

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.” 

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father. 

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around. 

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued. 

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back. 

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned. 

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…” 

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly. 

He. 

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story. 

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore. 

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. 

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night. 

The realization made Bradley freeze. 

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there. 

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders. 

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. 

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.  

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores. 

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?” 

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” 

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly. 

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks. 

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. 

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home. 

-------------

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting? 

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid. 

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later. 

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer 

Oh yeah? 

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip?  please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me…

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no  it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse 

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear? 

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early 

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom 

No

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm  getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri] 

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that 

Always do just what I ask 

Fuck I need you so bad 

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home? 

-------------

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home. 

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night. 

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him. 

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. 

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach? 

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit? 

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. 

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions. 

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh. 

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it. 

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - 

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!” 

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much. 

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze. 

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately. 

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!” 

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest. 

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts. 

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana. 

“Lemme help you out there.” 

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.” 

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug. 

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe. 

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. 

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch. 

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders. 

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.” 

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?” 

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. 

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. 

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently. 

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him. 

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.” 

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now. 

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.” 

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now. 

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly. 

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. 

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you. 

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated. 

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck. 

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking. 

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. 

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

--------------

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him. 

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile. 

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days. 

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. 

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. 

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you. 

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp. 

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile. 

“New personal record!” 

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…” 

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.” 

“That’s just my perfume!” 

“Nope, just you kid.” 

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.” 

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors. 

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. 

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you. 

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” 

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.” 

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.  

Absolutely not.

--------------

“Do you need any help packing?” 

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you. 

“Nerd.” You kissed him. 

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him. 

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.” 

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect. 

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome. 

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same. 

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener. 

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. 

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror. 

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true. 

Certain standards. 

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot? 

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. 

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms. 

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either. 

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards. 

-----------

a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone

[calliethetrekkie]

15. Top 3 favorite alien crewmembers?

16. If you could steal the basic plot of an episode for one show and apply to another which would you choose?

19. You can undo one plot point, which do you choose?

Oh wow, I didn't think I'd ever get an Ask for that meme haha. But alrighty, let me see here...

15. Top 3 favorite alien crewmembers?

Spock

Deanna Troi

Worf

Now that list might change when I eventually get past TNG, but for now that's where I am.

16. If you could steal the basic plot of an episode for one show and apply to another which would you choose?

Huh... good question. I did mention on my main how I would LOVE to see a TOS version of the TNG episode Attached. Specifically I mentioned Spock and McCoy in part for shipping reasons, but even in a general sense they'd be by far the most fun and interesting to see in that dilemma. It would also allow them to develop more of an understanding, so you have character development as well. The episode in TNG didn't do it for me because I don't ship Picard and Crusher whatsoever and while I like their general relationship, the episode didn't really provide anything new for me to care about. But I would be ALL for it if it was int hat scenario or any combo of the Triumvirate really, I just think that Spock and McCoy would be the most entertaining/interesting considering their bickering XD

19. You can undo one plot point, which do you choose?

Good question... well, of the series I've seen thus far:

TOS: The upside to TOS is that for the most part if you don't like something, you can safely ignore it due to the show not being continuity heavy. If I had to get rid of something... I'd undo the stupid 'women can't be Starship captains' bullshit from The Turnabout Intruder. Which I'm fairly sure most everything that takes place in TOS or earlier also ignores it and for good reason because for a future society to have that kind of rule is so stupid. It's only there cause 60's sexism, and it feels like the episode was trying to prove that 'see? women are too emotional and unstable to be captains'. You can certainly put a new view on it in the modern times, I've seen plenty that still work. But for a show that was progressive in so many ways, its treatment of women in general could be horrendous, and the fact that the series ended with it is a shame.

AOS: There's SO many things that I would undo if I could. If I have to pick one... I'd get rid of Vulcan's destruction. I still don't get the point of why they did that except to give Spock angst. It and fridging Amanda like they did just felt overly cruel and didn't really have any impact in the long-run. Spock had enough angst cause of being half-human and the bullying he received, was destroying his whole planet and race and killing hos mother necessary whatsoever when you had plenty to work with? No. It didn't. You could have had Vulcan attacked and massive casualties and damage, the extent it went was just too much imo.

TNG: I wanna list almost everything in Generations... but I haven't seen it in full so I'll stick to things in the show I've seen. In which case, I pick them killing off K'Ehleyr. An interesting, badass female character with her own struggles who really shined in her two episodes... and they fridge her for Worf's character and to dump a kid on him. While the scene in itself is well done, and you feel the agony and rage that Worf feels when he finds the body (thank you Michael Dorn), I was so freakin' angry it's not even funny. It had long-term impact, I'll give it that, but I'm still angry about it. I wish it had at least been done as an ending of K'Ehleyr's story and give her that agency, not just for Worf's character plot.

[theomnicode]

Saitama’s power deconstruction part 1: Psyche and Divine powers The Ego, The ID and the Super-ego

I know right? How is this even related to massive strenght? The planet busting powers and being impervious?

Buckle up and I will try my best to explain this wild theory I stumbled upon while doing research into how buddhism relates to OPM and then doing some leaps of logic and other stuff. I've no degree in psychology so bear with me on this, I just like doing analysis.

Again, lots of wikipedia abuse and you may want to read some of my previous posts as they relate to the research I've been doing on discord.

Does god reside in Saitama?

Saitama's hero suit

How saitama's power manifests

Warning, this is an extremely long post of both theory, OPM meta, speculation and lots of wikipedia abuse.

Preface, explaining the leaps of logic:

At first, I simply researched ways how would a willpower use manifest when he uses his emotions to seemingly fuel a Serious punch and how said fuel is then expended in stress relief, which I have explained on how Saitama's powers potentially manifest as emotional release.

In current chapter 167, we're seeing a lot of showcase about things that break laws of physics and break common sense. But he's completely dissocating as well and he's not actually punching with energy release. His punches are completely different from how he threw his planet busting punch. And seemingly weaker too.

I was also researching how to break one's limiter and realised that OPM God has no identity at all, because he is faceless and at the same time, multifaceted and takes on other identities.

When Blast said that beings who manipulate the reality of the cosmos and that we got confirmation that Saitama's powers are of divine origin, I immediately thought about reality manipulation. But that would not explain the bursts of emotional discharges.

If we believe Gyoro, one has to overload the body and spirit, multiple times.

According to Ventegodt and Merrick, the Jungian term "psychic death" is a synonym for "ego death":In order to radically improve global quality of life, it seems necessary to have a fundamental transformation of the psyche. Such a shift in personality has been labeled an "ego death" in Buddhism or a psychic death by Jung, because it implies a shift back to the existential position of the natural self, i.e., living the true purpose of life. The problem of healing and improving the global quality of life seems strongly connected to the unpleasantness of the ego-death experience.

In Jungian psychology, a unification of archetypal opposites has to be reached, during a process of conscious suffering, in which consciousness "dies" and resurrects. Jung called this process "the transcendent function", which leads to a "more inclusive and synthetic consciousness".

Ego death is a "complete loss of subjective self-identity". The term is used in various intertwined contexts, with related meanings. Jungian psychology uses the synonymous term psychic death, referring to a fundamental transformation of the psyche. In death and rebirth mythology, ego death is a phase of self-surrender and transition, as described by Joseph Campbell in his research on the mythology of the Hero's Journey.It is a recurrent theme in world mythology and is also used as a metaphor in some strands of contemporary western thinking.

A fundamental transformation of the psyche. Hm.

So what is psyche?

In psychology, the psyche /ˈsaɪki/ is the totality of the human mind, conscious and unconscious.[1] Many thinkers, including Carl Jung, also include in this definition the overlap and tension between the personal and the collective elements in man. The English word soul is sometimes used synonymously, especially in older texts.

(Haha funny, that OPM writer also writes Mob Psycho haha)

So human mind, conscious and unconscious.

Human mind is probably Saitama's insane willpower. The non-defeatist attitude of his. Never accept defeat, never quit. But I legit haven't thought about the human mind relation with his powers. It may be normal and intact.

But we already know this don't we? What about the rest? (also this scene is so frikken funny to me lmao)

Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, believed that the psyche—he used the word Seele ('soul', but also 'psyche') throughout his writings—was composed of three components:

The id, which represents the instinctual drives of an individual and remains largely unconscious. It does not respect the rules of society.

The super-ego, which represents a person's conscience and their internalization of societal norms and morality.

The ego, which is conscious and serves to integrate the drives of the id with the prohibitions of the super-ego. Freud believed this conflict to be at the heart of neurosis.

Now we've hit the meaty part of it. Saitama's divine powers and how he can control the conscious and unconscious mind. Supposedly.

The Ego, The ID and the Super-ego:

The id, ego, and super-ego are a set of three concepts in psychoanalytic theory describing distinct, interacting agents in the psychic apparatus (defined in Sigmund Freud's structural model of the psyche). The three agents are theoretical constructs that describe the activities and interactions of the mental life of a person. In the ego psychology model of the psyche, the id is the set of uncoordinated instinctual desires; the super-ego plays the critical and moralizing role; and the ego is the organized, realistic agent that mediates between the instinctual desires of the id and the critical super-ego.

ID:

The id is the instinctual component of personality that is present at birth, and is the source of bodily needs and wants, emotional impulses and desires, especially aggression and the libido (sex drive). The id acts according to the pleasure principle — the psychic force oriented to immediate gratification of impulse and desire — defined by the avoidance of pain. Freud said that the Id is unconscious, by definition.

The mind of a newborn child is regarded as completely "id-ridden", in the sense that it is a mass of instinctive drives and impulses, and needs immediate satisfaction. The "id" moves on to what organism needs. Example is reduction of tension which is experienced.

The id "knows no judgements of value: no good and evil, no morality. …Instinctual cathexes seeking discharge—that, in our view, is all there is in the id." It is regarded as "the great reservoir of libido", the instinctive drive to create—the life instincts that are crucial to pleasurable survival. Alongside the life instincts came the death instincts—the death drive which Freud articulated relatively late in his career in "the hypothesis of a death instinct, the task of which is to lead organic life back into the inanimate state." For Freud, "the death instinct would thus seem to express itself—though probably only in part—as an instinct of destruction directed against the external world and other organisms" through aggression. Freud considered that "the id, the whole person…originally includes all the instinctual impulses…the destructive instinct as well", as eros or the life instincts.

If those bolded parts sound familiar, they should. Avoidance of pain because Saitama doesn't seem to feel any real pain even if he gets hit.

Source of bodily needs and wants, because Saitama is so detatched from his emotions right now, he has no physiological needs. Despite acknowledging gravity when he jumped around the moon, now he gives two shits about gravity, air, temperature or anything.

Bodily wants because he can do whatever he wants to apparently with his body, like Table flip and jump at high speeds and everything he wills himself to do. Just general body enhancement ability so he can do Serious side hops. And lastly...

Serious series, Serious Punch.

The "Death" punch.

"Instinct of destruction directed against the external world through aggression."

A very emotionally loaded aggressive Punch. That more than likely causes emotional catharsis via expulsion of emotional energy. Either via transference or cathexis.

Note that the ID is according to Freud, unconscious by definition. So in some levels, Saitama is not aware of the extremes of his Death punch when it's this emotionally loaded. Such as him feeling suddenly relaxed after unloading stress at Elder Centipede. Or when he's using his divine powers to load it with emotional energy, specifically. Because he is not thinking rationally anymore at this extreme level, it's all emotions, instincts where his higher cognitive thought processes get thrown out of the window. Head empty, just feeling the hot cognitive release of emotion.

Serious Punch is one thing. He's pounding Garou with Serious punches.

But they are without any emotion to discharge. The higher the emotion, the bigger the discharge. That makes them different. Makes sense. This is from the writer of Mob Psycho after all.

Normal punch is normal levels of aggressive emotion(nal damage). Serious Punch is serious levels of aggressive emotion, he feels like he needs to punch to kill. Death Punch is... more extreme levels of aggressive emotional discharge.

(I can't I'm just laughing at the Emotional Damage joke now xd)

Genos did ask for him to take him seriously and show him no mercy and not hold back... Well, he didn't hold back, Genos got a taste of Saitama's divine powers kekw.

Be careful what you wish for lmao. He didn't die, so that's something.

But if Saitama has been doing hero work for 3 years and punching people, if he constantly discharges his emotional energy like this, does that mean it is the reason why he's been feeling his emotions waning?

Possibly. Likely. Might be related to the other parts of his powers. But if he experiences emotions and does not discharge them in anger or in other ways (hmmm? other ways?), he might be able to gain a sense of his waning emotions back. At least I hypothesise.

King is playing a very dangerous Game when he made Saitama pissed lmao. He's lucky Saitama moderates himself extremely well too and went out to punch a Centipede to literally vent. But then again, King is a true gamer.

Onto the other part of his power. The one which we saw him use in latest chapter 167.

Ego:

The ego (Latin for "I",[20] German: Ich)[21] acts according to the reality principle; i.e., it seeks to please the id's drive in realistic ways that, in the long term, bring benefit, rather than grief.[22] At the same time, Freud concedes that as the ego "attempts to mediate between id and reality, it is often obliged to cloak the (unconscious) commands of the id with its own preconscious rationalizations, to conceal the id's conflicts with reality, to profess…to be taking notice of reality even when the id has remained rigid and unyielding."[23] The reality principle that operates the ego is a regulating mechanism that enables the individual to delay gratifying immediate needs and function effectively in the real world. An example would be to resist the urge to grab other people's belongings, but instead to purchase those items. The ego is the organized part of the personality structure that includes defensive, perceptual, intellectual-cognitive, and executive functions. Conscious awareness resides in the ego, although not all of the operations of the ego are conscious. Originally, Freud used the word ego to mean a sense of self, but later revised it to mean a set of psychic functions such as judgment, tolerance, reality testing, control, planning, defense, synthesis of information, intellectual functioning, and memory.[25] The ego separates out what is real. It helps us to organize our thoughts and make sense of them and the world around us.[25] "The ego is that part of the id which has been modified by the direct influence of the external world. …The ego represents what may be called reason and common sense, in contrast to the id, which contains the passions…in its relation to the id it is like a tug of war, which the ego has to hold in check the id to not let it loose; with the difference, that the teams fought against one other in equality, while the ego was against the much stronger 'id'.

In Freudian psychology and psychoanalysis, the reality principle (German: Realitätsprinzip)[1] is the ability of the mind to assess the reality of the external world, and to act upon it accordingly,[2] as opposed to acting on the pleasure principle.

Allowing the individual to defer (put off) instant gratification, the reality principle is the governing principle of the actions taken by the ego, after its slow development from a "pleasure-ego" into a "reality-ego":[3] it may be compared to the triumph of reason over passion, head over heart, rational over emotional mind, human values over animal instinct.

What we can glean from this is a set of psychic functions and that Ego represents reason and common sense. Common sense that Saitama is also currently breaking.

Judgment Tolerance Reality testing Control Planning Defense Synthesis of information Intellectual functioning Memory From another source of Ego psychology, we have: Reality testing Impulse control Affect regulation Judgment Object relations Thought processes Defensive functioning Synthesis

Yea, honestly sounds about right when you think about it.

Note here, that ID aka those governing emotions, instincts and bodily functions are on the unconscious level.

While Ego functions are done mostly on the conscious level.

But anything that Saitama does when in an emotional state can be unconscious action, by definition. And everything done while apathetic and not beholden by ID and only driven by the Ego, is a intellectual-cognitive and executive function. But some actions of the ego or id can still be done consciously or subconsciously.

Currently in chapter 167, Saitama is dissociating from his emotions really hard. So he is not overwhelmed by his own feelings about Genos' death. May or may not be unconscious ability that he regulates his emotions. But lack of emotions makes it more difficult for him to connect with his ID. Reality principle is the governing principle of the actions taken by the ego.

So by either forcing himself to not feel (subconscious defence mechanism) or through the massive discharge of emotions just before fighting Garou on I.O or both, the Ego has taken over the fight. The rational, intellectual-cognitive though processes.

Quite literally, as he performs a picture perfect right hook when his form is normally sloppy. He fights methodically, surgically, intelligently with little wasted movement. Even his dialogue choices seem to reflect his utter lack of passion for this battle.

In an Ego versus Ego battle. Where he is going to pound Garou's ego to the ground, figuratively and literally.

If that makes sense.

Now, the powers.

Judgement:

Saitama has a tendency to cast "judgement" on other people, which works as judging their Egoes that can cause a shift in their Ego. It sounds remarkably similar to the concept of "Gaze".

Possibly he can induce the process for the search of the Ideal Ego in self. If he uses his divine power that is, possibly unconsciously via emotions. But it seems to be a battle of Egos, so to speak. Fubuki as Do-S states, has a strong ego herself, so she does not immediately yield. Neither does Garou.

Eye-contact is probably a requirement. Thus the gaze and pressure one can feel when he looks at people and exerts his divine power. Orochi who is another being who has broken their limits at least once, perceives this as The Third Eye. You could say that Saitama has clairvoyance of sorts.

Eyes are the window to your soul, a quote from William Shakespeare. Saitama stares into your soul, the spirit, the ego, the self-concept.

My personal headcanon from now on is that he can never Judge Genos because he cannot truly get eye contact, since he's a cyborg. But Genos on his own, is sincere and honest. He does not need to. Genos will find his ideal ego through normal means.

Tolerance:

Tolerance is a no brainer. He can tolerate just about anything that could kill a normal human being. Lava, space vacuum, freezing, laser beams, lack of air, radiation, you name it.

The interesting note here is that he first needed an adjustment period and then sudden sense of relief. Unconscious mind at work again where his body functions adjust themselves. Or something like that.

It is said, however, that the ego seems to be more loyal to the id, preferring to gloss over the finer details of reality to minimize conflicts while pretending to have a regard for reality.

Reality testing:

The Ego governs reason and common sense. Therefore, Saitama can break logic and break laws of physics and grab hyperspace portals. And probably also relation to how he can break the moon with 4 fingers. It's all kind of related. Currently in chapter 167, he's holding Genos core in his hand and imbuing it with his Divine power that test reality itself and break logic. Because it's tanking nukes and survived traveling to Jupiter.

The lack of common sense and rationality, the Ego, on the other hand, allowed him to interact with the spiritual plane, because he was pissed that he thought they were talking about his bald head lmfao.

Control:

Yeap, just control. Not much to say about this one, but he controls his impulses and the applications of his power precisely as he wants. Despite his capabilities, he can just as easily smash the planet apart as he can snap chopsticks. Though maybe the tiniest bit of force application proves to be sometimes difficult, as well as humorous.

Control does seemingly slip at times when he gets emotional though. Like when he accidentally breaks King's gaming consoles.

Affect regulation:

The ability to modulate feelings without being overwhelmed. Saitama is normally pretty easygoing and stoic person, then he gets passionate quite often despite saying his emotions are waning. But he may be able to modulate his feelings unconsciously to protect his psyche from damage.

Planning:

Idk is planning hitting grocery store sales a superpower? Lol. But he is apparently planning his actions regularly, like when he surfed on the ship and then thought about jumping towards Garou. And the moon jump back.

Defensive functioning:

A defense is an unconscious attempt to protect the individual from some powerful, identity-threatening feeling. Initial defenses develop in infancy and involve the boundary between the self and the outer world; they are considered primitive defenses and include projection, denial, and splitting.

Not much more to say that Saitama is just impervious. He can take a hit.

Object relations:

The capacity for mutually satisfying relationship. The individual can perceive himself and others as whole objects with three dimensional qualities.

Possibly his ability to perceive others, like how he perceived Awakened Garou and could immediately tell something was off and he could hear the echo of God in the background.

Thought processes:

The ability to have logical, coherent, and abstract thoughts. In stressful situations, thought processes can become disorganized. The presence of chronic or severe problems in conceptual thinking is frequently associated with schizophrenia and manic episodes.

Keep calm, punch monster, move on.

Synthesis of information:

The synthetic function is the ego's capacity to organize and unify other functions within the personality. It enables the individual to think, feel, and act in a coherent manner. It includes the capacity to integrate potentially contradictory experiences, ideas, and feelings.

If one had all these powers, not being able to organize and unify it would get messy. I get it.

Intellectual functioning:

Idk he's still sane? Sounds like a power to me. That he's able to intellectually function despite being god level and doing irrational, logic defying feats. Or when he's chilling on the surface of the moon without seemingly any air.

Memory:

I get a feeling that he has repressed an important memory, like why he became a Hero in the first place that he mentions having forgotten, in an effort to protect his psyche from damage.

Let's face it, nearly dying and having ego-death to break the limit will prolly create some kind of trauma that one represses.

(To be continued on Part 2, the Super-ego and further)

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

MILA BESTIE BELOVED do you have any Thots™️ about pirate!Austin? It’s for science 👀✨

so...so so many thots. pirate austin hits all of my interests

i'm imagining will turner from pirates of the carribbean and austin just fits that character so well 😭

i imagine him in pretty nice clothing, maybe like an old blue 1760s officer jacket, brown trousers, and of course the white puffy pirate shirt that's mostly unbuttoned

he's got a couple of necklaces decorated with shells, leather, and gems that he's gathered on his different trips. i'm imagining maybe a bandana wrapped around his forehead, too

PROBABLY AN EARRING 👁 👁 and definitely a BIG BIG belt that you can easily grasp onto

he would definitely have longer hair that he pulls back into a ponytail, but the sexy will turner ponytail

and he would probably tie it back with a ribbon or a strip of fabric that you gifted to him

even though a lot of his crewmates are also dirty and not well kept, he makes sure to stay pretty clean and put together

he doesn't have facial hair, but he sure does have stubble + he's probably blonde af because of all the sun bleaching his hair haha

he wear rings....so many rings, and he gifts you one of his rings + his red bandana so that you'll remember him when he goes out to sea. and you give him a piece of jewelry or a strip of ribbon to hang on his belt loops

he's grown up as a pirate his whole life, indebted to repay the money his father couldn't before he died

pirate!austin is really successful in terms of the ranks, however, and i would imagine him as first mate or quartermaster tbh. someone who has a lot of responsibility

where a lot of his crewmates spend time at the pub, he prefers to sit outside in the cooling air and read or just watch the sun set

he's extremely skilled with a sword + daggers, and you meet when he saves you from some baddie pirates

unfortunately, he has debts to repay on his ship so he has to go out to sea for months at a time, but that means that when he returns to shore to see you, he's REALLY happy to see you

sex with pirate!austin is unreal. he's extremely loving and tender while also being thorough + idk if this makes sense but he fucks you DEEP. like he's all the way in, gripping your body to pull you as far down on his dick as possible

he's massively endowed and so so hungry for you

he also loves, loves, loves when you pull on his hair. especially when he's performing oral on you and you can feel his stubble tickling and scratching your legs

he always brings back trinkets for you when he returns, whether its jewelry, gold coins from an ancient land, jade statues, or whatever he happens to have from his pillaging trip

you spend every waking minute together, making love all night and then sleeping in, lazily laying with each other in the morning

but when he leaves you, it's incredibly painful. because you know it will be months before you see him again. or hear from him actually because how would he send letters from the middle of the ocean?

sometimes you're terrified that he won't come back at all, but he always does with a little something something for you

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hiya JWB! Your thoughts on the scene when Arnav takes khushi to his mums. i HATE that they used such obvious body doubles & only watched it i think two seperate times, whenever it comes on i skip or stop it. I dont even remember what was said in it as all i can see is the body doubles, and that hand rubbing khushis cheek to clean the drawing just before they go? Cant remember when but it properly annoys me haha. Love ur replies and analysis keep it up for us still loving Arshi. Biggest thankyou!

Hey Anon!

Oh I so wish they had the script supervisor just note which car they used to create some semblance of continuity! I totally understand why they’d use body doubles but then considering how prominent Sanaya and Barun’s hands are, why they’d go for hand close ups and just why they chose completely different cars… sigh

To be honest when you’re shooting rapidly and daily these important things can be really missed out on! I’m sure on the editing table they realized that damn the nail work just doesn’t match (they tried to crop it!) and the cars don’t match either but probably what’s most important is to get the episodes out in line at the proper time!

You can see below they super cropped in but couldn’t do a anything much cause it was evident how different the hands were!

However all said and done it is a BEAUTIFUL scene, one of the best ones post elopement and is absolutely worth the watch! It adds the emotional gravity we were so waiting for!

It’s a shame there wasn’t a common schedules for the actors that day and that very obvious discrepancies were visible (I can bet that even the directors and editors went “ah shit”) but perhaps it’s one of the few times I can watch over an obvious error.

Also at that point ipk was seriously breaking down in terms of budget - I think a lot of the production stuff was probably being funnelled to other shows? - because you could start to see the set wear down, makeup go off, cinematography slightly cheapen and all.

The scenes also are suddenly too brightly lit. You see the way they managed outdoor Nainital versus the garden and you’d understand there was just a higher quality of equipments employed previously.

(You can see the difference in colouring lighting costume and makeup - massive yet subtle differences)

It’s a good scene though - just hear it out - it ties up the conversation Arnav had with Khushi about parents becoming stars and the whole Anjali Arnav bangle conversation.

Sigh, if they’d only top that scene with Arnav actually giving her his mum’s bangles it would’ve totally closed the loop! But hey very few shows give things in retrospect at this point (where the writers were changed or new writers stepped in).

Small things though could’ve made the scene easier:

- give Sanaya a glitter mehendi or a real mehendi with sketch pen to the body double

- give the body double short red nails instead

- have Arnav wipe Khushi’s face with a handkerchief so in a closeup we have the thumb wrapped in a hanky

- choose the same car for the actors to blend the scene

- have the master shot instead of close ups where they touch each other’s face so we can see the full moment between the actors (the pic below is a master - which is usually a wider shot with both the leads in)

- shoot the hands from the other side so we don’t see the nails but just the hands together

But also there were moments where they got the lighting and body double position really right where you can easily believe it’s arshi! And that is tough considering you need to command eye line, where they’re looking, outdoor lighting and all to look cohesive!

So, I hope you give this scene a chance regardless! Cause tv is tough to perfect, especially under pressure, and sometimes when the writing is brilliant you can forgive other things 😊 I’d always take good writing above two actors in the same frame doing shitty scenes (for example the swami track eww)

On a funny note, the hut scene did give us the worst of both worlds 😂

Best,

- JWB

[rivetgoth]

I don’t know if you can answer this because idk if you’re gay or not but would you say it’s nearly impossible for someone who is ftm and gay like me to find a cis gender boyfriend? I know there’s chasers and to some I’m like a kink but I feel like most cis gay men are not open to dating, let alone ever settling down one day with a trans guy

I don’t mean this to sound rude but I’d probably recommend checking out my bio in the future because unfortunately (for the context of this ask, not for me, haha) I’m bisexual and in a long term and happy relationship with a woman, so I’m not gay, no, and I’d probably suggest finding a gay trans guy who is in a happy relationship with a man to get better information on this, but I mean… I’ve known PLENTY of trans guys of all orientations who have found love. I’ve known trans guys with success in dating apps for both relationships and hookups, trans guys who’ve been in happy relationships with men, etc. I would not at all say that it’s nearly impossible; I think if you interact with large LGBT community spaces (which I’m very aware is a privilege that I have due to living in a big city in a blue state, I’m not saying that’s an easy thing to have access to) you’ll hear a MASSIVE amount of varied experiences among trans people in relationships, including a huge number who have happy relationships with long term partners.

Like, truly, speaking from experience as someone who knows a LOT of trans people, I would earnestly say, not trying to just sound nice or sugarcoating it or anything, the ratio of trans men (and trans people I know in general, including transfems and nonbinary people) in happy relationships is just about perfectly 50:50 to the cis people I know. I do know trans men who are chronically single and struggle hugely to find relationships. I also know cis men in the exact same boat. I know trans men who are in open relationships and have both long term partners and are able to hookup with hot guys they meet. I know both straight and lesbian trans women with long term partners. I know kinky polyamorous nonbinary people who have had like 3-4 partners at once. Trans women in huge polycules. I know chronically single socially awkward cis women. It’s like. Genuinely not even something I really think about, I know so many “taken” trans people by being active in local kink and alt and LGBT spaces, and I’m not exactly like a social butterfly that knows insane numbers of people, I just am never surprised to hear about a trans person in a relationship because it’s not even a rarity or anything to me, you know?

I do get that dating as a trans person can feel like a minefield though, especially if you’re in an area that doesn’t have a big LGBT community presence. Options feel limited and at worst it can genuinely feel unsafe. I still get nervous when I’m hit on sometimes because I’m aware as a passing transsexual guy that I’m not being interpreted as trans and thus if I pursue the relationship there will be a moment that I’ll have to “come out,” where my genitals will have to be a whole convo on the table and it’ll be for some the moment of judgment and they may very well change their mind altogether, if not react with violence or aggression. That sucks. Like, a lot. I also don’t really think that it’s possible for anyone, trans or cis, to have a healthy and happy relationship unless we feel at least somewhat secure in ourselves. You know the whole “you can’t be loved until you love yourself” phrase? Obviously that’s not 100% true point blank, but I do think it’s hard to express outwards affection in a healthy way when you can’t get out of your own insecurities; it’s bound to be projected onto others or keep you from fully expressing yourself and your wants. But that’s hard for lots of trans folk, due to both dysphoria as well as external pressures like how so much of society views our bodies as anomalies or fetishes. So there is a balancing act that kind of has to happen where you learn self preservation and being smart about how you put yourself out there, but also learn to confidently put yourself out there at all and not be limited by fear. Tricky, and sometimes luck based IME, but like, the more social interaction you have and the more people you meet and the more you’re rejected and the more you’re able to form positive social connections and just the more experience you get in general the easier it becomes.

And uh last thought, I’m not going to touch this too much because I get it’s a touchy subject, but you asked me so I’m answering, I would like to push back on something here— I’d suggest asking yourself why you explicitly seem to be looking to date cis? I know “genital preferences” is like, a massively controversial subject and I don’t need anyone justifying themselves in my inbox by explaining the nuances of their unique traumas or preferences that have made them decide that they only want to date cis (I’m an anarchist so I think you can do whatever you want lol) but like, all being open to dating other trans guys does is open up the door to more options and possibilities? I’m not exclusively T4T myself seeing as I’m literally not dating a trans person, but I have spoken before about how I’m not really crazy about trans people who explicitly only date cis. I think there are often implications there that should be worked through about how you view your own identity TBH, but that’s not really my business. My advice stands regardless of your relationship preferences or goals IMHO.